on  me 


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Life  and  Sport  on  the 
Pacific  Slope 


••••  •••• 

•..  .-. 

•  •  •*  •       • 

v. 


•  •c  •  • 

: 


Life  and  Sport  on  the 
Pacific  Slope 

By 

Horace  Annesley  Vachell 

Author  of  "The  Procession  of  Life,"   "A  Drama 
in  Sunshine,"  etc. 


•       •••••••  «.      • 


New  York 

Dodd,  Mead  and  Company 

1901 


Copyright,  igoo 
By  Dodd,  Mead  and  Company 


All  rights  reser'ved 


UNIVERSITY    PRESS     .      JOHN    WILSON 
AND     SON     •     CAMBRIDGE,     U.S.A. 


TO 

CHAUNCEY   HATCH   PHILLIPS, 

WHO,    BORN    IN    THE    EAST,    iS    ESSENTIALLY    OF    THE    WEST, 
I    DEDICATE    THIS   BOOK. 


m7ti7S 


y 


Prefatory   Note 


My  Dear  Chief,— I  dedicate  this  book  to  you 
with  profound  pleasure,  in  acknowledgment  of  an 
affection  and   sympathy  which  have  been  sealed 
by  a  great  sorrow.     From  your  hands  I  received 
a  loyal,  loving  wife;  but  the   fact  that  she  was 
born   in  California   has  not  shackled  my  lips  in 
speaking  of  the  West.     She,  I  know,  would  have 
entreated  me  to  write  with  a  free  hand ;  and  if  at 
times  I  seem  to  criticise  somewhat  harshly  certain 
women  who,    consciously   or    unconsciously,    are 
widening   the   gulf    between  their   husbands  and 
themselves,  let  it  be  remembered  by  my  friends 
that  1  have  judged  these  women  according  to  a 
standard  set  by  a  daughter  of  the  West,  a  standard 
of  tenderness,  fidelity,  unselfishness,  and  modesty 
to  which  few  wives,  be  their  country  what  it  may, 
can  attain. 

Many  and  many  a  time  have  you  and  I  talked 
over   the    subjects    treated    in  these  pages;    but 


viii  Prefatory  Note 

although  our  opinions  clashed  now  and  again,  our 
intercourse  continued  absolutely  free  from  friction 
and  discord.  That  intercourse,  which  began  seven- 
teen years  ago,  and  our  friendship,  which  sunshine 
could  not  wither  nor  shadow  obscure,  have  indirectly 
inspired  this  volume.  But  I  ask  you  to  shoulder  no 
responsibility  in  regard  to  it;  and  whether  you  ap- 
prove what  I  have  written  or  not,  believe  me, 

Most  affectionately  yours, 

Horace  Annesley  Yachell. 

HuRSLBT,  Winchester. 


Contents 


CHAPTEB  PA6K 

I.  The  Land  of  To-morrow  ......  3 

II.  The  Men  of  the  West 23 

III.  The  Women  of  the  West 49 

IV.  The  Children  of  the  West      ....  73 
V.  Ranch  Life,  1 91 

VI.  Ranch  Life,  II 107 

VII.  Business  Life ...  131 

VEIL  Anglo-Franco-Californians  .         ...  149 

IX.  The  Englishman  in  the  West,  I.      .     .  161 

X.  The  Englishman  in  the  West,  II.          .  177 

XL  The  Side-Show 191 

XII.  Pot-pourri 205 

XIII.  Ethical 229 

V  XIV.  Big  Game  Shooting 249 

V    XV.  Small  Game  Shooting,  1 273 

*/XVI.  Small  Game  Shooting,  II 289 

XVII.  Sea  Fishing 807 

XVIII.  Fresh  Water  Fishing       SS5 


Contents 


APPENDICES 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     A  Few  Statistics 347 

II.    Horticulture 360 

III.  Viticulture 369 

IV.  Beet  Culture 375 

V.     Irrigation 378 

VI.     Hints  to  Sportsmen 385 


I 

THE  LAND  OF  TO-MOREOW 


Life  and  Sport  on  the 
Pacific  Slope  . 


J        .         o   t,  > 


I 

THE  LAND   OF  TO-MORROW 

NOT  long  ago  I  saw  the  sun  rise  in  a  Surrey 
garden.  Standing  at  an  open  window  I 
looked  down  upon  dew-laden,  silvery  lawns  that 
sloped  to  a  lovely  mere.  In  the  mid-distance  the 
mist  lay  like  a  velvety  blur  upon  the  woods  skirting 
the  northern  bank  of  the  Thames.  It  veiled,  too, 
the  great  cedars  and  elms  in  the  garden,  robbing 
them  of  colour  and  substance,  so  that  they  seemed, 
as  it  were,  grey  ghosts,  —  spectral  sentinels  of  an 
Eden  whence  the  glory  had  departed.  The  mist 
began  to  melt  beneath  the  kiss  of  an  August  sun, 
and  I  lingered  at  my  window,  waiting  expectantly 
for  what  would  be  revealed,  as  if  I  were  a  stranger 
to  the  garden  and  its  beauties.  Very  soon  the  trees 
and  shrubs  and  flowers  were  clearly  defined,  fresh 
and  glowing.  Against  the  yew  hedge  that  encom- 
passed this  pleasaunce  was  an  herbaceous  border. 
Here,  great  salmon-pink  hollyhocks  towered  above 
the  graceful  larkspurs  —  dark  and  pale  blue.  Below 
these  again  were  those  sweet  vagabonds  the  corn- 
flowers, the  stocks,  the  verbenas,  and  snapdragons. 


4     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

Fringing  the  border  were  the  gaudy  calceolarias. 
Not  for  the  first  time  I  was  struck  by  the  amazing 
finish  of  the  picture,  its  exquisite  texture  and  quality. 
And  I  reflected  that  in  Surrey  alone  there  are  hun- 
dreds of  such  gardens,  and  that  they  represent  the 
care  and  the  culture  of  a  thousand  years. 

Looking  at  this  perfect  miniature  I  was  fain  to 
contrast  it  with  a  picture  I  knew  and  loved  in 
ancthei^  land  se^'en  thousand  miles  away.  I  could 
see  in  fancy  a  great  valley  sloping  westerly  to  a 
great  ocean.  Upon  the  face  of  this  landscape  lay 
the  same  glad  freshness  of  morning.  And  here 
too  the  mist  had  spread  her  magical  carpet,  obscur- 
ing the  bare  plains,  veiling  the  rude  houses  and 
barns,  blotting  out,  in  fine,  the  works  of  man  while 
lending  unearthly  beauty  to  the  works  of  God. 

In  both  pictures  was  revealed  the  hand  of  the 
Master.  And  the  less  included  the  greater,  even  as 
the  infinite  spaces  of  the  sky  are  reflected  in  a 
dewdrop. 

The  Surrey  garden  was  an  epitome  of  yesterday 
and  to-day.  Upon  the  other,  the  great  valley  sloping 
to  the  Pacific,  broods  the  promise  of  to-morrow. 

This  Land  of  To-morrow  includes  within  itself  the 
material  resources  of  all  the  nations.  It  has  a  great 
seaboard,  rich  valleys,  mountains  of  minerals,  vast 
forests,  rivers,  lakes,  reservoirs  of  oil  (the  fuel  of 
to-morrow),  and  a  people  not  to  be  matched  in 
energy,  patience,  pluck,  and  executive  ability. 

Fifty  years  ago  this  was  the  Lotos  Land,  where 
life  was  essentially  Arcadian,  pastoral  and  patri- 
archal.    Another  race  dwelt  upon  the  shores  of  the 


The  Land  of  To-Morrow  5 

Pacific,  the  Hispano-Californians,  who  ate  and  drank 
and  made  merry.  Some  of  them  may  still  be  found 
south  of  Point  Concepcion;  they  have  absolutely 
nothing  left  —  except  their  charming  manners. 
When  I  came  to  the  Pacific  Slope,  in  '82,  you  might 
find,  here  and  there,  a  ranchero,  the  lord  of  many 
acres,  of  many  flocks  and  herds.  At  his  house  a 
warm  welcome  awaited  the  stranger.  The  men  of 
the  family,  the  cahalleros,  entertained  their  guests 
with  feats  of  horsemanship,  barbecues,  and  stories 
of  the  past.  The  senoritas  danced  and  sang.  The 
word  "  work  "  was  seldom  mentioned.  These  were 
simple  primitive  people :  content  with  little,  grate- 
ful to  God  for  the  blessings  vouchsafed  them,  truly 
free,  if  we  may  accept  their  own  testimony,  and 
truly  happy.  Such  as  they  were,  however,  the 
Pacific  Slope  will  never  see  their  like  again. 

Their  songs,  I  remember,  were  infinitely  touching. 
One  had  a  pathetic  refrain  (it  was  a  favourite  with 
the  sefioritas)  :  Adios,  adios,  para  siempre  adios.  I 
never  heard  it  sung  without  reflecting  that  this  — 
so  to  speak  —  was  the  swan-song  of  the  Latin  to 
the  all-conquering  Anglo-Saxon. 

During  the  fifty  years  that  followed  the  American 
occupation  of  the  West  so  much  has  been  accom- 
plished that  an  encyclopedia  would  hardly  find 
room  for  facts.  In  the  appendices  of  this  book  will 
be  found  figures  taken  from  reliable  sources  that  will 
serve  to  faintly  indicate  what  has  been  done.  By 
applying  to  these  figures  the  rule  of  geometrical 
progression  some  conception  may  be  formed  of  what 
will  be  done  —  to-morrow. 

It  will  be> conceded,  I  think,  that  so  far  as  Call- 


6     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

fornia,  Oregon,  Washington,  and  British  Columbia 
are  concerned  the  experimental  stage  has  been 
passed.  Mining,  for  instance,  has  become  an  exact 
science.  The  same  may  be  said  of  fruit  culture, 
viticulture,  the  breeding  of  fine  horses  and  cattle, 
the  making  of  wine  and  oil,  cereal-raising,  and  man- 
ufactures. The  cruiser  upon  whose  bridge  stood 
Admiral  Dewey  when  he  entered  the  harbour  of 
Manila  was  built  in  San  Francisco.  An  immense 
battle-ship, "  The  Oregon,"  doubled  Cape  Horn  with- 
out misadventure,  a  marvellous  feat.  Her  keel  was 
laid  in  the  ship-yards  of  the  West.  The  modern 
war  ship  is  a  machine  so  complex,  combining  in 
itself  so  many  of  the  arts  and  sciences,  so  incom- 
parably difficult  of  nice  adjustment,  that  it  would 
seem  to  be  the  ne  jplus  ultra  of  human  ingenuity 
and  mechanical  skill.  To  the  hands  and  brains 
that  have  constructed  an  "  Oregon "  nothing  can  be 
deemed  impracticable. 

I  shall  now  set  forth,  as  briefly  as  may  be,  my 
reasons  for  speaking  of  the  Pacific  Slope  as  the 
land  of  To-morrow.  The  people  who  live  in  the 
West  are  profoundly  convinced  that  their  country  is 
a  land  of  to-day.  More,  the  word  "  to-morrow  "  has 
an  offensive  signification.  California,  for  instance, 
was  once  known  as  the  land  of  "  manana,"  a  land 
where  nothing  must  be  done  to-day  that  could  pos- 
sibly be  put  off  till  to-morrow. 

Time  has  brought  many  changes  to  the  Pacific 
Slope,  but  none  more  amazing  than  the  change  from 
ignorance  and  indolence  to  activity  and  intelligence. 
But  the  promise  of  the  future  dwarfs  the  perform- 
ance of  the  present.     Heretofore,  despite  her  unpar- 


The  Land  of  To-Morrow  7 

alleled  resources,  California  has  been,  for  the  many, 
terra  incognita.  Over  and  over  again  I  have  been 
asked  the  most  absurd  questions.  A  lady  of  rank 
and  fashion  told  me  only  the  other  day  that  she 
hoped  to  visit  California,  because  she  wished  to  see 
the  —  Andes.  Another  thought  that  the  Golden 
State  belonged  to  England.  A  third  was  interested 
in  Yo  Semite,  but  feared  the  terrors  of  the  wilder- 
ness. She  really  believed  that  I  roamed  my  ranch 
clad  in  skins  of  wild  beasts,  that  the  plains  were 
black  with  Apaches,  the  towns  at  the  mercy  of  des- 
peradoes !  Some  of  my  friends  have  greeted  me  on 
my  return  to  England  as  if  I  were  a  long  lost  ex- 
plorer. "  How  glad  you  must  be,"  they  say,  holding 
my  hand  in  a  fervent  clasp,  "  to  find  yourself  once 
more  in  a  civilised  country."  When  I  explain  that 
I  have  been  living  in  a  town  of  thirty  thousand 
people,  a  town  better  lighted,  better  kept,  more 
abundantly  blessed  with  the  amenities  of  life,  than 
two-thirds  of  the  cathedral  towns  of  England,  I  am 
confronted  by  a  pitying  stare. 

I  remember  taking  some  English  travellers  to  a 
luncheon  at  the  country  house  of  a  Calif omian. 
After  luncheon  a  drag  came  round,  and  we  went  for 
a  drive.  The  visitors  cocked  bewildered  eyes  at  the 
coach,  the  harness,  the  servants,  the  horses.  When 
their  surprise  found  words,  they  overwhelmed  our 
host  with  compliments  far  too  florid  for  his  taste. 
Silence  would  have  been  a  subtler  form  of  commen- 
dation. French  visitors  would  have  conveyed  their 
sense  of  pleasure  and  concealed  their  amazement. 

But  this  ignorance  of  the  West  is  passing  away, 
and  with  it  will  pass  the  fear  also,  that  fear  which 


8     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

a  great  raw  boy  so  often  inspires  in  his  elders.  In 
a  certain  sense  the  West  has  been  running  amoh. 
It  has  had  a  stormy  youth.  It  has  played  queer 
pranks.  Talk  to  the  wise  men  of  the  East  —  why 
is  wisdom  supposed  to  dwell  in  the  East  ?  —  and 
they  will  shake  their  hoary  heads  at  the  mere  men- 
tion of  the  West.  Some  of  them,  doubtless,  have 
suffered  real  pain,  finding  themselves  in  the  grip  of 
a  young  giant  unconscious  of  his  strength.  Gold 
has  come  out  of  California  and  been  sown  broadcast 
all  over  the  earth.  There  is  no  advertisement  like 
gold.  Even  wise  men  are  dazzled  by  the  sight  of  it. 
And  accordingly  the  very  name  of  California  became 
a  synonym  of  the  precious  metal.  Men  who  were 
unwilling  to  leave  their  snug  hearths  sent  some  of 
their  savings  to  the  State  that  was  called  golden. 
And  it  is  to  be  feared  that  these  savings  were  never 
seen  again.  In  Wall  Street,  in  the  city  of  London, 
on  the  continental  bourses,  Calif  ornian  mining  stocks 
were  freely  bought  and  sold.  But,  for  the  most 
part,  the  great  fortunes  were  made  by  the  Californi- 
ans  themselves  :  the  Fairs,  the  Floods,  the  Mackays, 
of  bonanza  times.  The  outsiders,  who  —  like  Kip- 
ling's woman  —  did  not  know,  who  never  could 
know,  and  did  not  understand,  lost  their  money  and 
with  it  their  faith  in  the  El  Dorado  on  the  shores  of 
the  Pacific.  Although  gold  was  being  taken  by  the 
ton  from  the  mountains  and  streams,  although 
the  country  was  extraordinarily  prosperous,  yet  the 
bottom  —  as  the  phrase  runs  —  was  out  of  the  boom. 
California  had  the  whooping-cough. 

The  measles  followed  in  due  course.     In  mining 
times,  land  was  held  at  a  few  cents  an  acre.     The 


The  Land  of  To-Morrow  9 

dons  who  owned  hundreds  of  leagues  were  in  the 
habit  of  giving  it  away.  A  miner,  shrewder  than 
his  fellows,  asked  Mariano  Vallejo  for  a  farm. 
Vallejo  gave  him  eight  thousand  acres  of  fine  land, 
and  bade  him  take  more  if  he  wanted  more.  Others 
followed.  The  Haggins,  the  Tevises,  the  Millers  ac- 
quired principalities  for  a  song.  When  the  psycho- 
logical moment  came,  these  vast  ranches  were 
subdivided  and  put  on  the  market,  on  the  world's 
market.  Mr.  Nordhoff  wrote  a  book  about  California 
that  was  widely  read.  Pamphlets,  maps,  special 
editions  of  newspapers,  lecturers,  agents  of  the  trans- 
portation companies,  Boards  of  Trade,  proclaimed 
the  virtues  of  Californian  soil.  Of  course,  the  facts, 
quite  amazing  enough  in  themselves,  were  embel- 
lished. It  was  a  day  of  individual  successes.  One 
man  had  cleared  four  hundred  pounds  sterling  from 
one  acre  of  cherries  !  Another  had  made  a  fortune 
out  of  apricots,  or  oranges,  or  ostriches.  Not  a 
word  was  said  of  the  patience,  labour,  and  special 
knowledge  that  had  made  such  results  possible. 
Eeading  the  pamphlets  one  was  not  only  assured  of 
success,  but  failure  was  proved  to  be  impossible. 
The  prose,  in  which  these  alluring  statistics  were 
embalmed,  was  homely  enough,  mere  fustian,  but 
the  poetry  that  lay  between  the  lines  of  it  might 
have  lent  enchantment  to  a  dustbin.  Great  stress 
was  laid  upon  the  climate.  To  the  farmer  in  the 
East,  or  mid- West,  to  tlie  British  labourer,  to  the 
French  or  German  peasant,  —  all  of  them  groaning 
and  travailing  under  conditions  more  or  less  intoler- 
able, the  slaves  of  the  elements,  the  playthings  of  cy- 
clones and  blizzards,  —  to  these  poor  weary  workers, 


lo     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

life  beneath  the  soft  blue  skies  of  California  was 
pictured  as  a  sort  of  triumphant  procession. 

And  so  it  proved  —  for  a  season  or  two. 

I  remember  planting  potatoes  —  the  Early  Rose 
variety  —  upon  some  land  for  which  I  had  just  paid 
(in  '82)  five  dollars  an  acre.  My  neighbours,  men 
of  flocks  and  herds,  laughed  at  my  folly.  They  too 
had  read  the  pamphlets,  and  sneered  at  the  predic- 
tions of  the  prophets.  According  to  them,  land  in 
Southern  California  was  adapted  to  pastoral  uses  — 
and  nothing  else.  I  was  pronounced  a  tenderfoot 
with  money  to  burn.  The  potatoes  were  planted  in 
virgin  soil.  They  increased  and  multiplied.  In 
due  time  the  crop  was  sacked  and  sold.  After  pay- 
ing expenses,  I  found  that  I  had  cleared  about  one 
hundred  dollars  per  acre  ! 

I  could  cite  a  thousand  such  instances. 

During  the  decade  that  followed,  the  Pacific  Slope 
was  peopled  with  petty  farmers  and  fruit-growers. 
Land  values  steadily  rose  in  obedience  to  the  im- 
mutable laws  of  demand  and  supply.  The  men 
of  flocks  and  herds,  the  "  silurians  "  as  they  were 
called,  the  "  moss-backs,"  ploughed  up  their  pastures 
and  sold  their  sheep  and  cattle.  The  spirit  of  the 
times  had  them  by  the  throat.  These  patriarchs, 
knowing  but  one  business  (and  that  indifferently 
well),  became  of  a  sudden  horticulturists,  wine- 
makers,  fruit-growers,  or  dealers  in  real  estate. 
They  no  longer  laughed  at  others,  they  laughed 
with  them.  Everybody  laughed.  A  broad  grin 
rested  on  the  face  of  the  landscape.  We  were  all 
blowing  soap-bubbles,  and  that  is  glorious  sport 
when  you   are  young.     And   there  was  plenty  of 


The  Land  of  To-Morrow  1 1 

soap.  It  greased  —  so  to  speak  —  the  ways  of  every 
enterprise.     Heavens  !  what  crazy  crafts  put  to  sea ! 

Town  properties  began  to  boom.  At  Los  Angeles 
men  stood  patiently  in  line  for  many  hours  waiting 
to  buy  lots  which  they  had  never  seen.  The  same 
lot  was  sold  again  and  again  within  a  week.  New 
towns  were  hastily  surveyed  and  put  up  at  public 
auction.  The  bidders  fought  with  each  other  for 
the  privilege  of  securing  corner  lots  on  avenues  that 
were  laid  out  on  —  paper.  These  auctions  were  ad- 
vertised in  all  the  daily  papers;  excursions  were 
organised ;  the  railroads,  of  course,  had  more  than  a 
finger  in  the  pie.  When  the  new  town-site  was 
reached,  meat  and  drink  were  provided  for  the  hun- 
gry and  excited  buyers.  A  band  furnished  appro- 
priate music. 

Looking  back  it  seems  incredible  that  we  could 
have  been  such  fools.  The  craze  affected  all  alike, 
rich  and  poor,  young  and  old,  wise  and  simple.  If 
you  had  no  money  the  banks  clamoured  for  your 
patronage.  Their  gold  lay  in  shining  piles  upon 
the  counters.  You  could  borrow  what  you  pleased 
—  at  ten  per  cent.  The  men  of  business,  the  trades- 
men, the  lawyers,  the  doctors,  and  the  parsons 
bought  land.  We  were  all,  in  a  sense,  thieves,  for 
we  robbed  Peter  to  pay  Paul.  The  saloons  did  a 
roaring  trade.  Champagne,  at  a  sovereign  a  bottle, 
was  the  only  liquor  fit  to  slake  the  thirst  of  the 
Native  Sons.  They  smoked  shilling  cigars ;  fat  per- 
fectoSy  encircled  with  gaudy  paper  bands  upon  which 
was  inscribed  "  Habana."  Some  of  these  full-Hav- 
oured  weeds  were  made  by  Chinese  cheap  labour  in 
the  stews  of  San  Francisco.     Perhaps  the  opium  in 


I  2      Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

them  lulled  to  sleep  the  prudence  of  the  smokers. 
Who  can  tell  ? 

During  these  halcyon  days  there  were  no  Popo- 
crats,  no  Silverites  (for  silver  —  as  in  the  time  of 
Solomon  —  was  counted  as  dross),  no  Unemployed. 
Everything  being  upside  down,  the  man  became  the 
master.  I  remember  that  I  was  graciously  per- 
mitted to  pay  my  cook  eighty-four  pounds  a  year 
for  services  worth,  as  we  compute  results  in  Europe, 
a  ten-pound  note.  The  ranch  hands  wore  diamonds. 
On  Sunday  they  arrayed  themselves  in  suits  of  broad- 
cloth at  fifteen  pounds  the  suit,  silk-lined  ;  they  took 
their  "  best  girls  "  for  drives  in  well-appointed  bug- 
gies drawn  by  fast  pairs  of  trotters.  As  for  the 
young  ladies,  I  dare  not  describe  their  toilettes. 

But  the  outward  and  visible  sign  of  this  amazing 
prosperity  was  most  manifest  in  the  houses  (they 
were  always  spoken  of  as  residences)  which  — like 
Aladdin's  palace  —  seemed  to  be  built  and  furnished 
in  a  single  night.  A  propos  of  them  I  have  a  story : 
I  was  in  a  Pullman  car,  and  we  were  passing  through 
a  valley  dotted  with  most  unsightly  houses,  —  ram- 
shackle buildings,  for  the  most  part,  each  an  amal- 
gam of  half  a  dozen  styles  of  architecture,  each 
obviously  built  for  show. 

"  What  are  yon  ? "  said  an  old  Scotchman,  who 
was  of  the  party. 

"  They  're  private  residences,"  replied  an  American, 
proudly.  "  Yes,  sir,  we  're  passing  through  Paradise 
Park.  Six  months  ago,  sir,  this  tract  was  a  howling 
desert  of  cactus  and  sage  brush." 

"  Eh,  eh-h-li  ?  Ye  surprise  me.  Private  resi- 
dences, ye  say  ? " 


The  Land  of  To-Morrow  1 3 

"  Yes,  sir.     What  do  you  take  them  for  ?  " 

The  old  Scotchman  answered  soberly  :  "  I  was  of 
the  opeenion  that  they  must  be  lunatic  asylums." 

A  big  fellow,  evidently  a  cattleman  from  Arizona, 
burst  into  Homeric  laughter. 

"  Jee-roo-salem ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  That 's  just 
exactly  what  they  air." 

Of  course  adversity  trod  hard  upon  the  heels  of 
her  twin,  prosperity.  The  pendulum  began  to  swing 
the  other  way.  We  had  had,  as  I  have  said,  the 
measles,  and  the  body  politic  was  enfeebled  and 
anaemic.  Bad  prices,  an  over-glutted  market, 
drought,  frost,  and  blight,  set  their  stigmata  upon 
us.  "  Laugh"  says  Mrs.  Wilcox,  "  and  the  world 
laughs  with  you :  weep  —  and  you  weep  alone."  Our 
laughter  had  rung  through  the  East  and  Europe. 
Our  youth  and  high  spirits  had  enchanted  the  older 
civilisations.  Now,  recovering  from  a  contagious 
disease,  we  were  constrained  to  mourn  alone,  in 
silence  and  seclusion.  The  contrast  between  the 
smiles  of  the  past  and  the  tears  of  the  present  would 
have  been  pronounced  humorous  had  it  not  been 
pathetic.  When  I  first  came  to  the  West,  I  was 
speaking  one  day  to  a  Californian  of  London  and 
the  glories  thereof.  He  listened  politely,  but  when 
I  had  finished  he  said  meaningly:  "London  is  all 
right,  though  it  ain't  Paris,  but  both  of  them  are 
—  remote."  To  him,  San  Francisco  was  the  centre 
of  the  solar  system :  the  sun  itself.  Only  last 
year  I  happened  to  meet  the  same  man.  His 
forehead,  I  noted,  was  puckered  with  perplexity ; 
his  clothes  were  shabby ;  liis  linen  was  not  im- 
maculate;  he   smoked   a   pipe.     After  a   minute's 


14     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

talk,  he  said  to  me,  feverishly  :  "  Say,  what  ails 
California  ? " 

I  told  him  that,  in  my  humble  opinion,  the  hard 
times  were  over,  that  the  future  was  rosy  with  the 
blush,  not  the  flush,  of  returning  health,  and  that 
California  would  be  richer  and  stronger  and  wiser 
than  she  had  ever  been  before.  My  friend's  expres- 
sive face  brightened. 

"  The  State  is  all  right,"  he  replied  earnestly. 
"  The  trouble  lies  with  us.  We  've  had  a  bad  dose 
of  the  swelled  head.  And  now,"  he  added  mourn- 
fully, "  we  Ve  got  cold  feet." 

In  the  slang  that  comes  so  pat  to  the  lips  of  a 
Western  man,  he  had  said  —  everything. 

When  California  begins  to  laugh  again,  the  world 
will  laugh  with  her.  She  is  smiling  already.  The 
discovery  of  gold  in  the  tributaries  of  the  Yukon,  the 
opening  up  of  Alaska,  the  acquisition  of  the  Philip- 
pine Islands,  railroad  competition,  the  Oriental  trade, 
the  possibilities  that  encompass  the  cutting  of  a 
canal  across  the  Isthmus  of  Panama,^  and  the  com- 
pletion of  the  Trans-Siberian  Kailway,  the  discover- 
ies of  coal  fields  and  oil  wells,  these  —  to  name  only 
a  few  —  are  the  heralds  of  a  progress  and  prosperity 
that  must  prove  radical  and  enduring.^ 

1  Since  writing  the  above  the  Panama  Canal  has  become  the 
property  of  American  capitalists. 

2  The  Hon.  John  Barrett,  late  United  States  Minister  to  Siam, 
writes  :  "  Three  great  States,  California,  Oregon,  and  Washington, 
forging  ahead  in  material  strength  with  tremendous  strides,  de- 
veloping vast  resources,  increasing  rapidly  in  population,  and  pos- 
sessing mighty  potentialities  yet  to  be  exploited,  debouch  with 
their  entire  western  boundaries  upon  the  Pacific,  and  look  to  it  for 


The  Land  of  To- Morrow  i  c 

I  am  not  prepared  to  discuss  the  pros  and  cons  of 
Imperialism  in  a  book  which  merely  professes  to 
be  a  pot-pourri  of  personal  experience;  but  I  can 
understand  why  the  word  itself  is  offensive  to 
many  good  Americans.  Expansion,  to  my  mind, 
better  expresses  the  purpose  and  policy  of  those 
who  have  annexed  the  Philippines.  Already,  we 
are  told,  the  bill  to  be  paid  for  these  islands 
amounts  to  more  than  two  hundred  millions  of 
dollars :  a  large  sum,  but  not  too  heavy  a  price  to 
pay  for  that  moral  expansion  which  has  revitalised 
a  country  needing  perhaps  no  fresh  territory.  Al- 
though I  use  the  word  "moral"  I  am  confining 
myself  to  practical  politics.  The  sentimentalists, 
the  men  of  Utopia,  are  as  usual  astride  the  fence. 
We  know  only  too  well  that  from  them  proceed,  in 
endless  prolixity,  empty  words,  —  vox,  et  prceterea 
nihil.  But  even  to  those  who  take  the  world  as 
it  is,  to  those  whose  eyes  are  undimmed  by  party 
prejudice,  the  annexation  of  the  Philippines  and  the 
protectorate  of  Cuba  mean  something  far  more  im- 
portant than  the  acquisition  of  rich  territory,  or 
the  right  to  take  a  leading  place  in  the  councils  of 
the  nations.  It  is  very  questionable  to  the  writer 
whether  the  one  or  other  of  these  is  worth  much 

a  goodly  share  of  their  future  prosperity.  ...  If  we  include  the 
long  winding  coast  of  Alaska  and  the  Aleutian  Islands,  we  have  a 
grand  total  of  nearly  thirty-five  hundred  miles  facing  the  Pacific. 
.  .  .  China,  Japan,  Siberia,  Siam,  the  Philippines,  and  Korea,  not 
only  want  the  flour  of  the  Pacific  Coast,  but  they  are  developing  % 
growing  demand  for  timber,  manufactured  food  supplies,  and  a  long 
list  of  lesser  products." 

Note.  —  The  grand  total  of  Pacific  trade  exchange  —  exports  and 
imports  —  was  $210,000,000  for  the  year  1898. 


i6      Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

in  hard  cash  to  the  United  States;  but  it  does 
seem  absolutely  certain  —  if  the  testimony  of  the 
past  is  to  be  accepted  —  that  with  nations  as  with 
individuals  a  policy  of  self-sufficiency,  of  restric- 
tion, and  of  isolation,  is  demoralising,  and  in  the 
end  disintegrating.  The  Spanish-American  war, 
where  millionaire  and  cowboy  fought  side  by  side 
in  the  ranks,  did  more  to  adjust  the  relations  be- 
tween rich  and  poor  than  all  the  synthetic  philoso- 
phies of  the  world.  Expansion  will  create  new  and 
enlarge  old  professions ;  it  must  have  a  permanent 
civil  service,  a  diplomatic  corps,  an  army,  an  ade- 
quate navy,  a  merchant  marine;  but  these  are 
merely  the  phylacteries  of  evolution ;  beneath  and 
unseen  lie  the  quickening  pulses  of  a  life  richer  in 
its  opportunities,  wider  in  its  scope,  more  varied 
and  variegated,  a  life  in  sympathy  and  in  touch 
with  others,  a  life  that  is  ampler,  nobler,  freer, 
and  happier  than  the  life  which  lives  in  and  for 
itself  alone.  As  the  egg  of  an  eagle  is  to  the 
monarch  of  the  air,  so  is  the  incubation  to  the 
"hatch  and  the  disclose"  of  a  great  nation. 

However,  dismissing  the  subject  of  Imperialism 
as  one  not  germane  to  these  pages,  we  must  remem- 
ber that  rightly  or  wrongly  the  Philippines  and 
Hawaii  now  belong  to  the  United  States,  and  that 
their  possession  affects  the  future  of  the  Pacific 
Slope  more  than  any  other  part  of  Uncle  Sam's 
domain.  Californians,  at  any  rate,  have  no  cause 
to  complain  of  or  criticise  a  policy  which  must 
benefit  directly  and  indirectly  every  farmer  and 
merchant  west  of  the  Kocky  Mountains.  It  has 
been  computed  that  the  Philippines'  imports  from 


The  Land  of  To-Morrow  1 7 

foreign  countries  (including  Spain),  compared  with 
the  imports  from  the  United  States,  were  in  the 
ratio  of  thirty-three  to  one.  This  fact  indicates 
the  volume  of  trade  awaiting  a  market  nearer 
(China  excepted)  by  thousands  of  miles  than  any 
I  have  named.  Roughly  speaking  the  imports  into 
the  Philippines  are  some  ten  millions,  while  the 
exports  will  be  about  twice  as  much.  But  this  is 
nothing.  Mr.  John  Foreman,  in  his  book  entitled 
"The  Philippines"  (London,  1899),  says  that  the 
possibilities  of  development  are  so  great  that  the 
next  generation  will  look  back  with  astonishment 
at  the  statistics  of  to-day.  If  Mr.  Foreman  proves 
a  prophet,  San  Francisco  will  be  one  of  the  five 
great  cities  of  the  world.  She  has  a  harbour  that 
can  be  entered  by  any  ship  afloat,  at  any  time  of 
the  tide,  and  at  all  seasons  of  the  year ;  a  harbour 
vastly  superior  to  New  York  harbour;  a  harbour 
with  an  anchorage  of  seventy-nine  square  miles! 
New  York  has  an  anchorage  of  nine  and  a  half 
miles. 

•Let  us  make,  however,  no  mistake.  The  West, 
intellectually  and  morally,  has  proven  itself  both 
wild  and  woolly.  The  healthiest  sign  of  a  vigor- 
ous recovery  is  the  recognition  of  this  by  the  people 
themselves.  Cold  feet  maybe  quickly  warmed ;  a 
swelled  head  is  not  so  easily  treated.  For  the 
present  the  Pacific  Slope  is  —  so  to  speak — in 
the  corner.  Our  nurses,  the  great  capitalists,  have 
their  eyes  upon  us,  but  we  must  be  careful.  It 
is  time  for  us  to  put  aside  childish  things,  the 
swaddling-clothes  of  conceit  and  ignorance,  and 
to  assume   instead    the   toga   of    manly   modesty. 

2 


1 8     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

Then,  and  not  till  then,  we  can  take  our  rightful 
place  in  the  senate-house  of  the  world. 

When  I  was  asked  to  write  this  book,  I  replied 
that  although  I  was  provided  with  matter  for  it, 
the  varied  experiences  of  seventeen  years,  yet  the 
manner  of  setting  them  forth  adequately  would 
prove,  I  feared,  beyond  my  powers.  I  have  reason 
to  know  that  the  people  of  the  West  are  extremely 
sensitive  to  criticism  —  especially  from  Englishmen. 
And  having  many  warm  friends  in  the  West, 
having,  moreover,  many  connections  by  marriage 
amongst  them,  wishing,  if  I  did  write  at  all,  to 
write  with  entire  frankness,  I  hesitated  for  a  long 
time  before  I  undertook  a  task  that  may  be  best 
described  by  the  old  Greek  word  of  —  "  bitter-sweet." 
In  the  Greek  it  is  "sweet-bitter,"  for  the  ancients 
held  that  the  bitter  follows  the  sweet  —  and  re- 
mains. We,  as  Christians,  hold  otherwise.  With 
us  the  sweet  prevails  and  endures.  Speaking  per- 
sonally—  and  it  is  only  as  an  individual  who  has 
lived  many  years  of  his  life  in  the  West  that  I  am 
entitled  to  a  hearing  —  I  would  say  emphatically 
that  the  bitter  has  passed  from  me.  Were  it  not 
so  I  would  hold  my  tongue.  More,  had  I  not 
suffered  in  common  with  the  people  of  the  West, 
did  I  not  know,  as  they  know,  the  peculiar  trials 
and  temptations  of  a  new  country,  if  I  was  not 
willing  to  share  the  blame,  to  shoulder  my  part 
of  the  load,  I  would  lay  down  my  pen  before  it  is 
hardly  wet.  My  object  is  primarily  to  show  what 
life  in  the  West  is,  not  what  it  ought  to  be.  I 
believe  in  the  Pacific  Slope.     I  am  profoundly  con- 


The  Land  of  To-Morrow  1 9 

vinced  that  it  has  a  great  and  glorious  future  before 
it ;  and  that  it  stands  to-day  upon  the  threshold  of 
that  future.  If  Horace  Greeley  were  alive,  I  am 
sure  that  he  would  repeat  his  famous  dictum: 
Young  man  —  go  West, 


II 

THE  MEN  OF  THE  WEST 


II 

THE  MEN  OF  THE  WEST 

MUCH  was  forgiven  to  Mary  Magdalene,  quia 
multum  amavit,  and  much  may  be  for- 
given to  the  sowers  of  the  West  because  they  have 
laboured  so  hard  and  so  faithfully.  —  Nice  customs 
curtsey  to  great  kings,  they  grovel  before  con- 
querors. And  the  men  who  apprehended  the  pos- 
sibilities of  the  West,  who  not  only  crossed  the 
plains,  and  the  forests,  and  the  mountains,  but  who 
recrossed  them  with  shining  ribands  of  steel,  were 
—  Caesars,  endowed  with  the  strength  and  the  weak- 
ness of  giants.  You  must  consider  them  and  their 
actions,  in  the  aggregate,  panoramically,  as  you 
would  survey  a  Californian  landscape. 

The  English  traveller,  who  merely  touches  the 
phylacteries  of  American  life,  always  lays  stress 
upon  the  dollar  as  being  the  unit  of  value  on  the 
Pacific  Slope.  According  to  this  authority  we  are 
money-grabbers,  worshippers  of  the  Golden  Calf, 
sacrificing  to  the  god  our  own  flesh  and  blood. 
And  yet  no  people  on  earth  are  more  truly  lavish 
with  their  gold  than  the  men  of  the  West;  no 
people  care  less  for  gold  as  gold ;  no  people  greet 
the  loss  of  it  with  greater  fortitude  and  good-temper. 
What  gold  represents  —  power  and  success  —  is 
dear  to  the  Native  Son,  for  he  knows  that  he  can- 
not plead  as  an  excuse  for  failure  the  burdens  of 


24     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

tradition  and  convention  that  hamper  the  strivers 
in  older  countries.  In  the  West  runners  are  nude 
when  they  start:  the  race  is  to  the  swift,  the 
battle  to  the  strong.  Each  is  given  credit  for  what 
he  does,  not  for  what  he  is.  Indeed,  in  a  country 
where  the  only  gentlemen  of  leisure  are  tramps,  it 
is  shameful  to  be  other  than  a  bread-winner.  Dives 
works  harder  than  Lazarus,  Only  the  other  day 
a  millionaire,  a  comparatively  young  man,  was 
stricken  down.  He  died  of  —  over-work.  Why 
did  he  not  take  it  easy  ?  Surely,  he  had  enough. 
I  knew  this  man,  and  he  told  me  that  he  laboured 
more  diligently  than  the  meanest  clerk  in  his 
employ,  and  for  practically  the  same  wage :  clothes, 
board,  and  lodging.  He  dared  not  do  less  than  he 
did.  It  is  against  the  spirit  of  the  West  to  shirk 
responsibilities. 

Mr.  Clarence  Urmy,  a  Californian,  whose  tuneful 
verses  are  familiar  to  readers  of  American  maga- 
zines, has  written  some  charming  lines  upon  this 
theme.  According  to  Mr.  Urmy,  those  only  fail 
who  strive  not.  The  sentiment  is  as  pretty  as  the 
verses  that  embalm  it.  And  it  is  a  sentiment 
essentially  of  the  West.  But  it  would  be  truer 
to  say  that  only  those  who  strive  can  know  the 
bitterness  of  failure.  In  a  new  country  the  strife 
is  so  strenuous,  it  demands  so  many  sacrifices,  that 
failure  becomes  almost  a  synonym  for  death.  God 
help  the  man  who,  in  the  accounting  that  comes 
to  all  of  us  sooner  or  later,  finds  his  balance  on 
the  wrong  side  of  the  ledger.  Surely,  in  that  dark 
hour  the  sense  of  what  he  has  suffered  and  endured 
becomes  a  crown  of  thorns.      Later,  perhaps,  he 


The  Men  of  the  West  25 

may  realise  that  it  is  better  to  have  striven  in  vain 
than  not  to  have  striven  at  all. 

The  men  of  the  West  never  take  the  word 
"failure"  home  to  their  wives.  It  is  locked  up, 
when  they  leave  their  office,  in  that  symbol  of  pros- 
perity, the  safe,  which  often  contains  nothing  more 
valuable  than  the  record  of  wasted  endeavour.  One 
and  all  are  stoutly  self-assured  that  if  the  slippery 
yesterdays  have  eluded  them,  if  the  silvery  to-days 
belong  to  others,  the  golden  to-morrows  are  theirs 
by  the  unalienable  rights  of  faith  and  hope.  The 
door-mat  kind  of  man  who  lies  down  grovelling, 
and  permits  the  foot-passengers  to  wipe  their  shoes 
upon  him,  is  not  to  be  found  west  of  the  Kocky 
Mountains.  Eobustly  conscious  of  his  strength, 
the  Native  Son  confronts  the  beasts  of  the  market- 
place with  the  same  courage  and  determination 
that  sustained  his  father  in  the  wilderness.  I  have 
stood  in  the  wheat-pit  of  San  Francisco  when 
wheat  was  jumping  like  a  kangaroo.  Around  me 
were  men  —  some  of  them  young  —  who  had  large 
fortunes  at  stake.  I  saw  one  "  bear  "  unmercifully 
gored  by  the  stampeding  "bulls."  But  he  picked 
himself  up  with  a  grin,  lit  a  cigar,  ate  a  capital 
luncheon,  told  a  good  story,  and  made  it  plain  to 
my  wondering  eyes  that  physically,  mentally,  and 
morally,  he  was  none  the  worse  for  his  mis- 
adventure. 

Curiously  enough,  despite  this  pluck  and  energy, 
the  men  of  business  are  ignorant  of  much  that  they 
ought,  in  their  own  interest,  to  know  thoroughly. 
The  average  English  gentleman,  the  magistrate  and 
landlord,  lacks  the  intelligence,  the  cleverness  and 


26     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

tact  of  his  American  cousin,  but,  narrow  and  prej- 
udiced as  the  Briton  is  in  many  ways,  he  takes 
the  broader  view  in  regard  to  the  conduct  of  the 
world's  affairs.  Not  till  the  war  with  Spain  did 
these  challenge  the  serious  interest  of  Americans. 
I  have  read,  even  in  sober  reviews,  the  grossest 
blunders,  the  most  absurd  misrepresentation  of  facts 
within  the  reach  of  any  journalist  who  has  access 
to  a  library.  In  this  particular  regard  the  press  is 
French  :  to  please  the  public,  to  tickle  the  ears  of 
the  groundlings,  they  ignore  the  truth  as  perversely 
as  the  Dreyfusards  and  anti-Dreyfusards  writing  in 
the  "Figaro"  and  the  "Echo  de  Paris."  In  an  English 
party  paper,  say  the  "  Standard,"  you  will  mark  that 
an  account  of  a  Liberal  meeting  will  be  faithfully 
recorded.  The  speeches  will  be  printed  verbatim ; 
the  cheers,  the  hisses,  the  questions,  will  be  honestly 
reported.  I  have  never  read  in  a  Western  paper 
a  true  description  of  a  political  meeting.  The  facts 
are  embellished  or  mutilated  according  to  the  politi- 
cal views  of  the  editor.  Of  an  enemy,  who  in 
private  life  may  be  a  blameless  citizen,  nothing  too 
shameful  can  be  said.  He  is  proclaimed  a  Judas, 
a  Catiline,  a  Nero,  a  Verres.  Ancient  history  is 
ransacked  to  find  his  peers  in  infamy.  This  is 
entirely  a  Gallic  characteristic,  alien  to  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  spirit  and  love  of  fair  play.  The  men  who 
wish  to  be  "  posted "  buy  two  daily  papers,  the 
Republican  and  Democratic  organs,  and  form  their 
opinions  by  what  is  left  unsaid  in  both. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Western  man  is  keenly 
conscious  of  his  limitations.  He  wants  to  know. 
England  is  full  of  men  who  are  quite  convinced 


The  Men  of  the  West  27 

that  what  they  don't  know  is  not  worth  knowing. 
I  can  hear  the  voice  of  the  old  colonel,  a  rasping 
voice  mellowed  somewhat  hy  sherry,  as  he  pro- 
nounces all  subjects  without  the  magic  circle  of 
his  own  intelligence  —  losh.  Not  so  the  Western 
man.  He  is  catholic  in  his  sympathies.  Every- 
thing interests  him  —  and  everybody.  He  devours 
an  essay  upon  liquid  air  and  its  possibilities,  and 
turns  from  that  with  gusto  to  a  vol  au  vent  of 
political  gossip,  or  a  chmidfroid  of  economics.  And 
this  being  so,  it  is  a  thousand  pities  that  the  cooks 
who  cater  to  this  appetite  should  not  supply  whole- 
somer  diet.  Western  people  suffer  from  dyspepsia, 
but  what  they  eat  is  as  Mellin's  food  compared  to 
what  they  read. 

Some  months  ago  I  was  returning  from  a  fishing 
tour  in  British  Columbia.  In  the  smoking-room  of 
the  Pullman  car,  I  encountered  a  youth  of  about 
seventeen,  who,  taking  me  for  a  tenderfoot,  pro- 
ceeded to  set  forth  at  great  length  the  resources  of 
California,  its  sociology,  topography,  and  climate. 
I  listened  patiently  for  a  couple  of  hours.  Pres- 
ently he  asked  me  if  this  were  my  first  visit  to  his 
State.  I  replied  in  the  negative,  saying  that  I  lived 
in  California,  that  I  owned  land,  that  I  was  engaged 
in  a  large  business.  He  looked  uncomfortable ;  then 
in  quite  a  different  tone  he  said  :  "  Say  —  when  did 
you  first  come  to  California  ? " 

It  was  my  turn. 

"  You  are  a  Native  Son  ? " 

"  I  am,"  he  answered  proudly  and  promptly. 

"  About  seventeen  years  old  ?  ** 

"  That  *s  right ;  seventeen  last  fall." 


28      Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

"Ah  —  well,  I  came  to  the  State  of  California 
about  the  same  time  you  did." 

He  blushed  scarlet;  then  he  laughed  heartily. 
"  Great  Scott !  Why  did  n't  you  tell  me  to  come 
off  my  perch  ?  " 

After  that,  he  asked  a  number  of  questions  and 
listened  civilly  to  my  replies.  We  parted  the  best 
of  friends. 

An  Englishman  is  never  seen  to  worse  advan- 
tage than  when  he  is  insisting  upon  what  he  is 
pleased  to  call  his  —  rights.  For  in  the  develop- 
ment of  character  it  is  expedient  that  men  should 
sometimes  do  without  privileges  to  which  they  con- 
ceive themselves  entitled.  Perhaps  if  we  clamour 
too  persistently  for  our  dues  in  this  world,  we  may 
also,  in  the  world  to  come,  be  dealt  with  according 
to  our  deserts.  At  any  rate  it  is  a  charming  char- 
acteristic of  the  men  of  the  West  that  they  are 
good-humouredly  content  with  less  than  that  to 
which  they  are  legally  and  morally  entitled.  As 
much,  be  it  noted,  cannot  be  said  of  the  women. 
In  San  Francisco,  at  certain  times  of  the  day,  the 
demand  for  seats  in  the  cable  cars  invariably  ex- 
ceeds the  supply.  And  the  men  of  course  always 
give  up  their  seats  to  the  ladies,  who  accept  them  — 
without  thanks.  Once,  however,  I  saw  a  Briton 
who  refused  to  budge.  Finding  the  eyes  of  the  fair 
upon  him,  he  fidgeted  and  finally  burst  into  speech. 
"  You  're  all  looking  at  me,"  he  said  angrily  ;  "  and 
you  think  I  ought  to  give  up  my  seat.  Well,  I  'm 
not  going  to  do  it.  And  if  the  men  of  this  country 
had  more  sense  they  'd  keep  what  they  've  paid  for, 


The  Men  of  the  West  29 

and  then  the  cable  companies  would  provide  seats 
enough  to  go  round."  He  was  scarlet  in  the  face 
before  he  finished,  and  everybody  laughed. 

At  the  theatre,  in  church,  at  race  meetings,  coun- 
try fairs,  at  all  times  and  in  all  places  where  a  little 
patience  and  good-humour  temper  what  is  disagree- 
able, the  people  of  the  Pacific  are  at  their  best. 

Once  at  a  performance  of  "  La  Tosca,"  some  youths 
in  the  seats  behind  me  were  "  guying  "  the  actress 
who  was  sustaining  the  principal  role.  And  this  to 
the  annoyance  of  all  of  us.  A  man  not  far  from  me 
silenced  them.  "  That  lady  on  the  stage,"  he  said, 
very  politely,  "is  making  so  much  noise  that  we 
cannot  hear  what  you  are  saying.  But  I  hope  we 
shall  have  the  pleasure  of  listening  to  your  criti- 
cisms later,  after  the  act  is  over." 

At  times  something  more  drastic  is  wanted.  A 
lady  had  been  rudely  treated  by  some  minor  official 
of  a  railroad.  As  a  rule,  ticket-sellers  give  them- 
selves great  airs.  To  women,  however,  they  almost 
invariably  show  courtesy  and  consideration.  This 
man  was  an  exception.  The  lady,  very  indignant, 
at  a  loss  for  words,  but  with  a  comical  sense  of 
humour,  turned  to  a  stranger  at  her  elbow.  "  Pray, 
sir,"  said  she,  "  tell  this  man  what  I  think  of  him." 
The  stranger  proved  equal  to  the  task  set  him.  In 
a  melancholy  drawl,  without  betraying  the  smallest 
excitement,  he  said  slowly :  "  Sir,  this  lady  thinks 
you  are  an  understrapper,  clothed  with  a  little  brief 
authority,  whose  only  qualification  to  the  position 
you  occupy  is  your  —  impudence." 

The  English  reader  will  pronounce  this  to  be  tall 


30     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

talk.  In  England,  even  amongst  men  of  mark, 
niceties  of  speech  are  banned  and  barred.  The 
phrase-maker  is  commonly  a  prig,  the  precisian  in 
grammar  is  despised  as  a  pedant.  The  American 
on  the  contrary,  has  found  out  that  a  well-sharpened 
tongue  is  more  reliable  than  a  six-shooter.  But  it 
must  be  noted  that  (regarding  the  tongue  as  a 
weapon)  conversation  in  America  is  necessarily  ag- 
gressive and  competitive.  Club  talk  in  England  is 
narcotic  in  quality,  in  the  West  it  is  stimulant.  I 
have  met  vampire  talkers,  who  seemed  to  suck  from 
the  brains  of  others  vigour  and  vitality.  Some  im- 
press one  painfully  as  struggling  against  odds  too 
great  to  be  overcome.  Up  to  the  neck  in  a  quag- 
mire of  words,  they  finally  sink  into  silence,  defeated 
but  not  disgraced. 

I  remember  meeting  a  friend  who  had  been 
elected  a  state  senator,  and  asking  him  how  he 
had  fared  at  Sacramento.  "  First  rate,"  he  replied, 
taking  hold  of  the  lapel  of  my  coat.  "Yes,  first 
rate.  I  was  really  scared  out  of  my  wits,  but 
I  didn't  wilt.  And  I  rehearsed  carefully  my 
own  little  song  and  dance.  You  read  my  maiden 
speech?  Yes:  good  —  eh?  My  boy,  I  practised 
it  in  front  of  my  mirror.  Yes,  I  did !  And  I 
gave  'em  a  little  of  everything :  a  dash  of  Mill,  a 
teaspoonful  of  Spencer,  Shakespeare,  the  Bible,  and 
a  line  from  the  Mikado.  It  was  great,  great !  It 
hit  'em  all.  I  tell  you  —  don't  give  me  away  — 
that  the  western  orator's  vade  mecum,  his  staff, 
his  shield,  his  cruse  of  oil,  is  —  a  Dictionary  of 
Quotations." 

Nothing  upsets  the  equanimity  of  a  Califomian 


The  Men  of  the  West  3 1 

crowd.  At  one  of  the  great  football  games  between 
Stanford  and  Berkeley  Universities,  a  huge  stand, 
flimsily  constructed  of  timber,  began  to  shake  omi- 
nously. Several  persons  jumped  up  and  a  panic 
was  imminent.  Just  then  there  arose  a  well- 
known  man,  something  of  an  autocrat  in  his  way. 
"  Sit  down ! "  he  said  sternly.  "  SiT  Down  !  SIT 
DOWN ! "  He  was  obeyed,  but  a  clear  voice  was 
heard  in  reply  :  "  That 's  all  right,  Fred.  But  why 
don't  you  sit  down  yourself  ? " 

Another  anecdote  that  illustrates  well  the  temper 
of  an  American  crowd  as  contrasted  with  an  Eng- 
lish assembly  is  worth  repeating:  A  great  singer 
was  enchanting  a  large  audience,  when  suddenly 
at  her  feet  a  column  of  flame  soared  up  into  the 
flies.  In  the  front  row  of  the  stalls  a  man  sat 
beside  his  wife  (some  wags  said  she  was  his  mother- 
in-law).  As  the  flames  shot  upward  this  fellow 
bolted.  He  was  next  to  the  gangway,  and  was 
up  and  out  of  the  theatre  before  the  audience  had 
realised  what  was  impending.  The  flames  van- 
ished ;  the  cantatrice  smiled  and  assured  the  house 
that  the  danger  was  over.  Then  the  man  came 
back!  In  England  he  would  have  been  greeted 
with  hisses.  In  America  he  was  cheered !  For 
my  part,  I  think  that  his  moral  courage  in  return- 
ing was  more  amazing  than  his  cowardice  in  run- 
ning away. 

In  a  thousand  ways  the  men  of  the  West  show 
that  they  are  willing  and  content  to  accept  less 
than  their  due.  In  lawsuits  a  compromise  is 
generally  possible,  whereas  in  England  the  same 
suit  would  be   fought   to  a  finish.     And  in  their 


32     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

daily  dealings  with  others,  the  Native  Sons  are 
humorously  sensible  that  "the  other  fellow"  may 
get  the  best  of  the  bargain,  and  if  he  does  none 
complains.  A  question  at  such  a  time  would  pro- 
voke a  grin  and  the  assurance  that  the  speaker's 
turn  would  come  —  later.  I  remember  a  very  stout 
dealer  in  real  estate  who  once  showed  me  a  rocky 
and  sterile  piece  of  land,  for  which  he  asked  an 
exorbitant  price.  I  was  indignant.  "You  must," 
said  I,  "  take  me  for  a  fool  of  fools.  How  dare  you 
show  me  such  a  scarecrow  of  a  ranch  as  this !  To 
whom  does  it  belong  ? " 

My  stout  friend  answered  sorrowfully:  "It's 
mine.  I  was  fool  enough  to  buy  it  in  boom  times ; 
I  've  been  waiting  ever  since  to  find  a  bigger  fool 
than  I  to  take  it  off  my  hands.  And,"  he  added 
sotto-voce,  "  I  don't  know  now  that  I  '11  ever  find  him." 

Another  real  estate  agent  was  showing  some 
rough  hills  to  a  client.  The  day  was  hot,  the 
slopes  were  almost  perpendicular,  and  the  client 
tired  and  out  of  temper.  After  seeing  the  ranch 
he  demanded  the  price.  It  was  named.  "What! 
You  have  the  nerve  to  name  a  figure  as  steep  as 
that  for  such  land!" 

"  Well,"  murmured  the  other,  blandly,  "you  see 
the  land  is  steep  too." 

The  consideration  shown  to  employees  by  the 
great  corporations  and  business  houses  is  a  mani- 
festation of  that  genial,  kindly  spirit  which  is  in- 
deed as  mortar  binding  one  human  soul  to  another. 
The  master  seldom  forgets  that  once  he  was  the  man, 
and  the  man  never  forgets  that  he  in  his  turn  may 
be  the  master.     I  cannot  recall,  during  seventeen 


The  Men  of  the  West  33 

years,  one  single  instance  of  a  cruel  and  cutting 
rebuke  from  one  in  authority  to  a  clerk  or  servant. 
A  friend  of  mine  had  a  clerk  who  was  always  for- 
getting important  duties:  letters  would  be  left 
unmailed;  important  entries  on  the  books  would 
be  omitted;  messages,  even,  were  sometimes  not 
delivered.  Said  my  friend  to  me  one  morning: 
"Really,  I  must  speak  to  John."  So  John  was 
summoned,  and  I  wondered  what  manner  of  rebuke 
would  fall  upon  his  head.  "  John,"  said  my  friend, 
"it  is  most  astonishing  what  a  very  bad  memory 
you  have.  But  I  believe  that  in  time  it  will 
improve,  because  I  notice  that  you  have  never  once 
forgotten  to  draw  your  salary  on  the  first  of  the 
month."  John  took  the  hint,  and  after  that  my 
friend  was  truly  and  faithfully  served. 

It  has  been  said  that  corporations  have  no  con- 
sciences. I  can  personally  testify  that  this  is, 
generally  speaking,  untrue  of  the  banks  in  the 
West.  The  kindness  and  forbearance  shown  by 
them  to  their  debtors  have  tided  many  and  many 
across  the  quicksands  of  ruin.  It  is  often,  I  admit, 
the  policy  of  the  strong  not  to  seize  the  spoil,  but 
I  know  of  cases  where  bankers  have  preferred  the 
interests  of  customers  to  their  own,  and  during 
recent  years  of  drought  and  panic,  notably  during 
the  time  when  the  Australian  banks  were  breaking 
by  the  score,  the  policy  pursued  by  the  capitalists 
of  California  averted  a  general  panic.  Had  they, 
in  their  hour  of  sore  need,  pressed  claims  upon  an 
impoverished  community,  half  the  farmers  and 
storekeepers  in  Southern  California  would  have 
become  bankrupt.     More  than  one  bank  suspended 


34     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

payment,  but  the  confidence  of  the  people  in  those 
who  held  their  fortunes  in  the  palm  of  the  hand 
was  sustained  and  justified. 

I  was  in  California  when  war  was  declared  be- 
tween the  United  States  and  Spain.  Of  that  war 
so  much  has  been  written  by  so  many  and  such 
able  men  that  little  remains  to  be  said  —  now. 
Later,  when  the  history  of  it  is  set  forth  calmly 
and  dispassionately,  when  time  has  adjusted  the 
scales  by  which  the  great  events  of  the  world  are 
measured,  it  will  be  found  that  the  Declaration  of 
Independence  has  not  been  fraught  with  more 
vital  interest  and  significance  to  the  people  of  the 
New  World  than  this  declaration  —  so  to  speak  — 
of  Dependence:  the  dependence,  not  of  the  weak 
upon  the  strong,  but  of  the  strong  in  relation  to 
the  ignorance  and  folly  and  vice  of  the  weak :  a 
confession  that  no  nation,  however  great,  can  stand 
alone.  The  particular  causes  that  constrained  Mr. 
McKinley  to  let  loose  the  dogs  of  war  have  not 
yet  been  determined.  The  ugly  word  "revenge" 
was  in  many  mouths.  Political  expediency,  in- 
crease of  territory,  were  phrases  heard  at  the  street 
corners  and  in  the  clubs.  And,  doubtless,  these 
and  half  a  dozen  others  were  factors  in'  a  sum  that 
must  have  sorely  puzzled  the  President  and  his 
Cabinet.  But,  personally,  I  believe  that  from  Maine 
to  California  the  Puritan  spirit,  using  the  adjective  in 
its  best  sense,  was  stirring  the  hearts  of  the  people. 

There  is  a  feeling  all  over  America,  but  more 
especially  in  the  West,  a  feeling  essentially  Gallic, 
that  leads  men  to  pose  as  being  worse  than  they 


The  Men  of  the  West  35 

are.  I  remember  a  charming  American  woman 
saying  to  me,  a  propos  of  her  husband :  "  He  is  the 
most  domestic  man  I  know,  but  he  would  like  to 
be  thought  a  little  wild."  Now,  the  London  "  Spec- 
tator "  predicted  war  some  weeks  before  it  was 
declared,  and  it  pointed  out  the  good  motives  that 
would  surely  animate  our  cousins  over-seas.  The 
article  was  able,  but  a  note  of  condescension  lurked 
between  the  lines  of  it,  that  condescension  in  re- 
gard to  foreigners  of  which  James  Lowell  wrote  so 
delightfully.  American  readers  might  infer  from 
the  "  Spectator  "  that  they  were  expected  by  Eng- 
land to  do  their  duty,  not  as  free-born  Americans, 
but  as  the  kinsmen  of  Englishmen.  I  do  not  say 
that  the  writer  of  the  article  in  question  deliber- 
ately meant  this.  But  I  assert  that  by  Americans 
such  interpretation  was  placed  upon  it,  and  upon 
other  similar  articles  in  the  London  papers.  At 
any  rate,  the  San  Francisco  "  Argonaut,"  the  best 
weekly  upon  the  Pacific  Slope,  and  one  of  the  best 
in  the  world,  burst  into  coloured  sparks  of  rhetoric. 
After  reading  carefully  an  impassioned  leader,  I 
was  quite  satisfied  (temporarily)  that  Duty,  as  an 
entity  in  American  affairs,  was  dead,  that  Evil 
always  triumphed  over  Good,  that  Might  was 
Right,  and  that  the  finger  of  Destiny  was  the 
finger  of  Death.  The  article  was  widely  read  in 
the  West,  and  its  phrases  snapped  up  by  many 
an  Autolycus.  Men  who  had  talked  glibly  enough 
only  the  week  before  of  philanthropy,  and  the  obli- 
gations of  a  model  republic,  went  about  the  streets 
dancing  a  sort  of  Carmagnole.  It  was  high  time 
—  some  of  them  said  —  to  grab  all  they  could  get. 


36      Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

Why  not  be  bold  and  bad,  like  the  buccaneer- 
ing Briton  ?  Let  the  United  States  annex  Cuba, 
and  Spain,  and  Europe,  and  the  Aurora  Bore- 
alis,  if  necessary.  The  reaction  had  set  in.  Then 
I  remembered  one  of  Max  O'Eell's  best  stories. 
Mons.  Edmond  About  had  written  of  a  hero  that 
he  was  "  virtuous  as  a  pupil  of  the  Polytechnique." 
The  pupils  of  the  Polytechnique  at  once  held  an 
indignation  meeting  that  simmered  into  the  form 
of  a  round  robin  to  the  distinguished  author. 
"Monsieur,"  it  ran,  "pray  mind  your  own  busi- 
ness. We  are  no  more  virtuous  than  you  are  ! " 
Max  O'Eell  always  added  that  he  knew  this  story 
was  true,  because  he  signed  the  round  robin 
himself  ! 

But  be  the  causes  of  the  war  what  they  please, 
the  spirit  in  which  the  youth  of  America  responded 
to  the  call  of  arms  must  awaken  the  liveliest 
admiration  in  all  of  us.  If  Mr.  McKinley  had 
asked  for  a  million  men,  he  would  have  had  them 
within  twenty-four  hours.  Friends  of  mine,  men 
with  many  interests  at  stake,  volunteered  to  serve 
in  the  ranks.  A  private's  musket  might  have 
been  a  marshal's  baton,  judging  by  the  eagerness 
with  which  it  was  sought.  One  patriot  —  to  cite 
a  single  instance  out  of  a  thousand  —  no  longer 
young,  very  rich,  occupying  a  high  position  in 
society,  a  man  of  fashion  and  culture,  wired  to 
Washington  entreating  his  friends  there  to  procure 
him  any  position,  however  humble,  in  either  the 
army  or  navy.  It  is  said  that  his  wife  wired  also  : 
"  Pay  no  attention  to  Jimmy."  No  attention  was 
paid  to  Jimmy,  except  perhaps  by  the  Eecording 


The  Men  of  the  West  37 

Angel ;  but  his  fervent  wish  to  serve  his  country, 
abandoning  thereby  all  that  most  of  us  count  as 
making  life  worth  living,  has  curious  significance 
to  a  foreigner.  There  are  about  a  million  Jim- 
mies in  the  United  States. 

In  the  West  the  war  was  taken  very  soberly.  In 
the  clubs,  in  the  restaurants  and  caf^s,  at  the 
theatres  and  music  halls,  there  was  none  of  that 
cheap  and  vicious  excitement  that  in  its  worst 
phases  is  delirium.  The  regiments  marched  into 
San  Francisco,  they  sailed  through  the  Golden 
Gates,  and  always  the  streets  and  docks  were 
black  with  friends  to  wish  them  "  God  speed  you." 
An  observer  could  not  fail  to  be  profoundly  im- 
pressed by  these  comings  and  goings.  Between 
them  and  the  mimic  parades  of  the  National  Guards 
upon  high  days  and  holidays,  was  the  difference 
between  the  real  thing  and  the  sham.  The  faces 
of  the  fathers  were  grim  as  they  watched  their  sons 
file  past  (they  were  thinking  of  Gettysburg  and 
Vicksburg),  and  the  women's  cheeks  were  wet. 

The  word  "  Chauvinism  "  has  been  used  more  than 
once  of  late  in  connection  with  the  people  of  the 
West,  —  a  word  to  which  a  deserved  stigma  is 
attached.  But,  for  my  part,  the  militarism  of  the 
people  was  a  pleasant  thing  to  witness.  Rich  and 
poor  alike  joined  hands  in  singing  the  national 
anthem,  and  the  fact  that  it  is  set  to  the  music  of 
"  God  Save  the  Queen "  did  not  detract  from  its 
power  and  purport  so  far  as  I  was  concerned. 
Columbia  called  her  sons  to  arms, — 

"  And  all  the  bugle  breezes  blew 
Reveille  to  the  breaking  mom." 


38     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

The  Stars  and  Stripes  floated  from  the  top  of  every 
house.  Upon  hundreds  of  thousands  of  windows 
were  pasted  paper  flags.  The  girls  encircled  their 
hats  and  waists  with  ribbons  of  red,  white,  and 
blue.  The  boys  bought  badges  and  buttons.  The 
men  wore  tiny  enamelled  scarf-pins.  Some  Eng- 
lishmen took  exception  to  this  perfervid  patriotism. 
They  said  that  love  of  country  was  cheapened 
when  a  man  wore  it  in  his  cravat  instead  of  in  his 
heart.  In  England,  continued  these  critics,  the 
flag  was  held  too  sacred  to  be  defamed  to  calico 
uses.^  I  can  quite  sympathise  with  this  point  of 
view,  but  I  can  also  sympathise  with  and  apprehend 
the  spirit  of  a  new  country  which  exacts,  and  exults 
in,  a  demonstration.  And  a  demonstration  is  neces- 
sary,—  the  confession  of  faith  of  a  heterogeneous 
people.  Englishmen  can  well  take  the  patriotism 
of  their  fellow-countrymen  for  granted ;  they  are 
and  have  been  Englishmen  for  nearly  a  thousand 
years.  But  in  the  West  is  it  not  common  prudence 
to  demand  from  the  Kelt,  the  Teuton,  the  Latin, 
the  Slav,  an  answer  to  the  question,  "  Are  you  truly 
of  us,  or  merely  with  us  ? "  Fifty  years  hence  the 
Stars  and  Stripes  will  be  still  the  beloved  flag,  but 
it  will  not  be  seen  twisted  around  the  hats  of  the 
maidens,  or  pasted  in  paper  upon  the  windows. 

The  men  of  the  West  may  be  divided  into  three 
classes  :  those  who  live  by  the  seaboard,  those  who 
live  on  the  plains,  and  the  stockmen  and  miners 
who  dwell  in  the  mountains. 

*  Since  these  lines  were  written  the  author  has  witnessed  the 
scenes  in  London  after  Ladysmith  and  Mafeking  were  relieved. 


The  Men  of  the  West  39 

It  has  been  my  unhappy  experience  that  most 
of  those  who  live  by  the  seaboard  are  —  tricky,  as 
were,  doubtless,  the  traders  of  Tyre  and  Sidon. 
And  there  is  small  excuse  for  their  trickiness 
inasmuch  as  to  them,  the  citizens  of  a  great  republic, 
have  been  given  advantages  denied  to  the  strivers 
in  less  favoured  countries.  All  these  knaves  know 
the  right,  yet  they  choose  the  wrong.  In  the  old 
world  you  find  the  seller  putting  the  biggest  straw- 
berries on  the  top  of  the  pottle,  his  smallest  pota- 
toes in  the  bottom  of  the  sack,  water  into  the  milk, 
sand  into  the  sugar,  and  so  forth.  In  the  West, 
where  neither  poverty,  nor  vice,  nor  disease,  nor 
ignorance  can  be  pleaded  in  excuse,  these  tricks 
assume  a  darker  complexion. 

It  is  true  that  the  worst  offenders  come  from  the 
East  and  from  Europe,  for  the  West  is  a  sanctuary 
to  the  pariahs  of  the  nations.  Here,  mind-healers, 
clairvoyants,  astrologers,  card-sharpers  and  the  like, 
flourish  as  the  bay  tree.  These  are  the  dregs  of  the 
older  civilisations,  the  scum  of  the  new,  and  there- 
fore the  more  readily  seen.  Perhaps,  if  choice  must 
be  made  of  two  evils,  it  is  better  that  sewage  should 
be  spread  upon  the  fields  than  lie  festering  in  cel- 
lars. The  bad  that  has  come  to  and  is  in  the  West 
lies  upon  the  surface  of  all  things,  in  full  view  of  a 
too  hypercritical  world.  If  this  scum  be  not  soon 
skimmed  and  cast  to  the  void  it  will  filter  through 
every  stratum  of  society,  as  it  has  done  elsewhere, 
and  then  the  last  state  of  the  West,  outwardly  im- 
maculate, will  prove  worse  than  the  first.  I  believe, 
personally,  that  the  period  of  purification  has  begun. 

There  is   said   to    be   honour    amongst   thieves. 


40     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

Western  thieves  are  exceptions  to  this  rule.  I  re- 
member subscribing  toward  the  construction  of  a 
steam  schooner  that  was  to  carry  at  a  minimum 
rate  the  produce  of  our  county  to  San  Francisco. 
Many  farmers  pledged  themselves  to  ship  their 
wheat  and  wool  by  this  vessel.  The  railroad,  a 
local  road,  was  run  upon  the  well-known  principle 
of  charging  the  shipper  "  all  that  the  tariff  would 
bear,"  a  policy  which  enriched  the  shareholders  of 
the  road,  but  did  not  endear  them  to  the  farmers  of 
our  county.  It  was  pointed  out  that  as  soon  as  the 
steamer  was  put  in  commission,  the  railroad  rates 
would  be  cut  in  a  competition  that  must  prove  disas- 
trous to  the  fortunes  of  the  steamer,  unless  the  farmers 
loyally  observed  their  contract.  It  was  also  pointed 
out  that  if  the  farmers  failed  to  support  the  steamer, 
it  would  be  sold,  and  that  the  railroad  would  have 
our  county  at  its  mercy.  Were  they  loyal  ?  Had 
they  the  wit  to  avail  themselves  of  an  opportunity  ? 
No.  The  railroad  did  cut  their  rates.  The  poor 
little  steamer  was  wiped  from  the  seas.  And  then, 
when  it  was  too  late,  the  penny-wise  farmers  paid  in 
full  for  their  folly  and  dishonesty. 

Of  the  men  who  live  in  the  plaiu,  the  less  said 
the  better.  The  sun  seems  to  have  sucked  the  sap 
from  them,  leaving  them,  as  it  leaves  the  grass  in 
the  pastures,  drab-coloured  and  withered.  Here 
are  the  wheat  farmers  of  the  Pacific  Slope,  who 
hold  the  prosperity  of  the  inland  towns  at  the 
mercy  of  the  elements.  If  the  sun  shines  too  fiercely, 
if  the  wind  blows  too  hard,  if  the  rain  fails,  if  blight, 
or  rust,  or  wire  worms  attack  the  crops,  the  com- 
munity trembles.     The  banker,  the  storekeeper,  the 


The  Men  of  the  West  41 

lawyer,  the  doctor,  and  the  parson  may  well  join  in 
the  farmer's  prayers  for  rain.  To  all,  a  drought  spells 
ruin.  These  big  gamblers  are  the  curse  of  a  new 
country.  They  have  done  enormous  harm  to  the 
State  of  California.  They  impoverished  the  soil  that 
yielded  at  first  fabulous  harvests,  and  they  impover- 
ished the  souls  of  those  dependent  upon  their  success 
and  failure.  Credit  is  the  life  blood  of  a  new  country; 
it  irrigates  the  waste  places  of  the  earth.  Without 
it  the  greater  portion  of  the  West  would  be  to-day 
what  it  was  in  the  time  of  Daniel  Webster  —  a  wilder- 
ness. But  credit,  like  water,  can  do  grievous  harm. 
Credit,  in  full  flood,  has  swept  from  the  West  those 
habits  of  thrift  and  industry  and  patience  that  alone 
make  for  character  and  prosperity  in  a  community, 
as  in  an  individual.  They  will  return,  they  are 
now  returning,  halting  in  the  wake  of  adversity, 
and  under  more  generous  conditions  will  become 
vertebrate  and  vigorous. 

In  the  old  days,  it  will  be  remembered,  Lot  chose 
the  plain,  and  to  Abraham  was  given  the  hill.  And 
since  those  ancient  times,  it  has  always  seemed  to 
me  that  the  best  men  live  nearest  the  stars.  Cer- 
tainly in  the  West  you  will  find  that  the  mountain- 
eers are  a  finer  race,  more  robust  than  their  brethren 
of  the  plain,  simpler  in  their  habits,  breathing  a 
purer  air  and  leading  a  purer  life.  For  the  most 
part  they  are  miners  or  cattlemen.  If  you  meet 
dne  of  these  fellows,  be  sure  and  mark  the  quality 
of  his  glance.  George  Eliot's  much  criticised  adjec- 
tive "  dynamic  "  describes  it  best,  —  that  all-compel- 
ling gaze,  the  glance  of  a  man  whose  eyes  are 
weapons  not  of  offence,  but  of  defence.     In  the  foot- 


42     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

hills,  in  the  forests,  and  in  the  plateaux  of  the  Sierras, 
you  will  find  these  men.  They  are  a  silent  race, 
save  when  possessed  of  strong  drink,  sober  of  coun- 
tenance, impassive  (some  of  them)  as  Eedskins, 
very  prejudiced,  but  as  a  rule  honourable,  kind- 
hearted  and  truthful.  Like  the  ancient  Persians, 
they  can  ride,  shoot,  and  speak  truth.  They  are 
loyal  to  their  friends.  Some  years  ago  two  outlaws 
set  the  officers  of  justice  at  defiance.  They  lived 
on  the  plain,  but  in  their  hour  of  need  betook 
themselves  to  their  friends  in  the  mountains.  Here 
they  found  sanctuary  and  food  and  drink.  A  great 
price  was  set  on  their  heads,  but  for  many  months 
they  remained  at  large. 

Shooting  and  fishing  among  these  people,  I  have 
always  found  them  hospitable  and  honest.  Often 
they  have  refused  money  for  my  board  and  lodging. 
Not  once  can  I  recall  an  overcharge  for  services 
rendered.  Talking  with  them  around  the  camp- 
fire,  I  have  been  told  amazing  stories  of  obstacles 
surmounted,  stories  of  almost  superhuman  pluck 
and  endurance.  Of  the  life  beyond  their  forests 
and  mountains  they  are  profoundly  ignorant.  An 
English  Minister  of  Education,  Sir  John  Gorst,  has 
said  that  he  considers  "  reading,  writing,  and  arith- 
metic to  be  of  dubious  value  to  a  boy  who  lives  in 
the  country ;  and  grammar  a  positive  curse."  The 
men  who  live  nearest  the  stars  are  learned  in  other 
lore,  the  ancient  wisdom  of  the  woods  and  streams, 
where  every  leaf  and  pebble  tells  its  tale  to  the  at- 
tentive eye  and  ear.  They  are  still  masters  of  the 
arts  that  an  educated  world  has  forgotten.  Perhaps 
contrast  colours  too  vividly  the   imagination,  and 


The  Men  of  the  West  43 

warps  our  sense  of  proportion.  But,  in  the  cool 
northern  woods  in  springtime,  when  the  forest  ap- 
peals in  turn  to  all  the  senses,  lying,  may  be,  on  the 
banks  of  a  lovely  stream,  watching  the  rainbow 
trout,  the  big  fellows  at  ease  in  the  tail  of  a  rapid, 
seeing,  perhaps,  a  stag  quenching  his  thirst,  hearing 
the  melodious  murmur  of  the  stream,  the  soft  sigh 
of  the  cedars  kissing  overhead,  smelling  the  per- 
fume of  the  pines,  I  have  wondered  if  this,  the  life 
of  the  primal  man,  is  not,  after  all,  the  best  that  can 
be  lived  under  God's  high  heaven.  At  any  rate,  as 
an  antidote  to  the  fever  of  modern  life  it  has  no 
peer.  0  weary  worker  of  the  West,  see  to  it  that 
for  a  season  in  each  year  you  live  out-of-doors ! 
Sleep  beneath  the  stars.  Eat  the  food  that  the 
woods  and  streams  provide.  Fill  your  lungs  with 
ozone  and  oxygen,  fill  your  body  with  plain,  whole- 
some food,  fill  your  heart  with  the  freshness  and 
fragrance  of  the  forest,  your  soul  with  the  glory  of 
the  firmament;  and  then,  when  you  return  to  the 
roaring  thoroughfares  of  the  world,  you  will  realise 
that,  no  matter  how  dun  the  days  of  strife  may  be, 
you  too  have  had  your  golden  hours  —  of  rest. 

I  have  spoken  hitherto  of  men  generally,  but 
the  West  produces  certain  giants,  who  by  virtue  of 
their  size  challenge  special  attention.  These  are 
the  aristocrats,  the  few,  who  at  all  times  and  in  all 
places  mould  and  control  the  many.  I  shall  name 
two.  Mr.  Collis  Huntington  was  the  President  of 
the  Southern  Pacific  Company,  the  richest  man  in 
California,  the  ablest  financier  in  the  United  States, 
and  one  of  the  shrewdest  politicians  of  this  or  any 


44     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

other  age.  He  has  been  compared  to  Bismarck,  to 
Napoleon,  to  Gladstone.  He  had  enormous  execu- 
tive ability,  stupendous  capacity  for  work,  a  great 
sane  mind  in  a  great  sane  body.  I  have  had  the 
pleasure  of  chatting  with  him,  and  I  recall  without 
effort  his  leonine  head,  his  keen,  kindly  eyes,  his 
massive  body,  and  the  power  and  vigour  that  ema- 
nated from  it.  Mr.  Huntington  could  stand  upon  the 
ragged  edge  of  an  abyss,  and  gaze  undaunted  into 
frightful  depths.  There  is  said  to  be  a  line  between 
right  and  wrong.  Mr.  Huntington  ploughed  close 
to  the  line,  where  the  soil  is  richest ;  some  say 
that  he  went  beyond  it.  That  line,  most  of  us  will 
admit,  is  a  meridian,  variable  and  varying.  Per- 
haps when  Mr.  Huntington's  figures  are  given  to 
the  public,  it  will  be  agreed  that  his  line  has  been, 
after  all,  nicely  computed.  To  most  of  us  this  same 
line  is  a  broad  strip  of  debatable  land  upon  which 
we  wander,  poor  vagabonds,  asking  of  each  other 
where  we  are.  To  Mr.  Huntington  must  at  least 
be  given  the  credit  of  always  knowing  exactly 
where  he  was.  More,  he  showed  others  where  and 
what  they  were.  He  plucked  the  eagle's  feathers 
from  many  a  daw ;  he  stripped  many  an  ass  of 
his  lion's  skin.  An  octogenarian,  he  worked  as 
hard  as  any  youth.  Born  in  a  small  Eastern  vil- 
lage, he  was  essentially  of  the  West.  His  life  was 
simple,  primal  even.  By  the  sweat  of  brow  and 
brain  he  made  himself  —  a  Colossus.  And  you  can- 
not measure  him  with  the  foot-rule  of  pygmies. 

Of  Mr.  Huntington  scores  of  stories  are  told. 
One,  pregnant  with  significance,  is  repeated  from 
Shasta  to  San  Diego.     The  driver  of  a  cab,  recog- 


The  Men  of  the  West  45 

nising  the  great  man,  protested  that  he  had  been 
paid  no  more  than  his  legal  fare.  "  Your  nephew," 
said  the  fellow,  "  pays  me  three  times  as  much." 

"  Is  that  so  ? "  replied  Mr.  Huntington.  "  Well, 
you  see,  my  friend,  I  have  not  a  rich  uncle  —  as  he 
has." 

What  Mr.  Huntington  has  been  to  the  material 
growth  of  the  Pacific  Slope,  Doctor  Jordan,  of  the 
Leland  Stanford  Junior  University,  has  been  to 
the  more  subtle  development  of  the  world  unseen. 
His  influence  to-day  amongst  the  young  men  of 
the  West  cannot  be  measured  till  to-morrow.  In 
a  country  where  gold  colours  the  very  flowers  of 
the  field,  Doctor  Jordan,  like  Agassiz,  has  had  no 
time  to  make  money.  He  has  refused  preferment 
again  and  again,  cut  down  his  salary,  when  the 
university  was  in  financial  straits,  laboured  strenu- 
ously in  many  fields  without  the  labourer's  wage, 
and,  in  fine,  has  set  an  example  of  energy  and 
fortitude  that  thousands  are  striving  to  emulate. 
But  David  Starr  Jordan's  friends  —  and  their  name 
is  legion  —  say  that  he  does  too  much.  He  is  a 
world-famous  ichthyologist,  an  international  author- 
ity upon  natural  science,  a  writer  of  note,  a  poet, 
a  lecturer,  a  journalist:  the  Charles  Kingsley  of 
the  New  World.  Is  it  not  to  be  feared  that  this 
Protean  capacity  of  playing  a  dozen  parts  will  work 
evil  rather  than  good?  The  weakness  and  the 
strength  of  the  West  lurk  in  its  varied  resources. 
A  child  taken  to  a  toy-shop  squanders  his  dollar 
upon  a  dozen  trifles  because  the  sense  of  selection 
is  paralysed.  Likewise  the  young  man,  apprehend- 
ing, through  the  clear  lenses  of  a  Jordan,  the  infi- 


46     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

nite  possibilities  of  the  future,  the  alluring  wares 
that  Nature  has  spread  upon  a  thousand  counters, 
may  wander  here  and  there,  frittering  away  his 
capital  of  energy  upon  a  score  of  gewgaws,  whereas 
he  might  have  bought  and  paid  for  a  radiant  pearl. 
Some  of  my  readers  must  have  seen  that  amaz- 
ing Italian,  Fregoli  He  plays  by  himself  a  comed- 
ietta, in  which  he  alone  assumes  the  various  r6les. 
He  is  ubiquitous.  Here,  a  dotard  —  there,  a  bal- 
lerina. There  are  many  Fregolis  in  the  West.  I 
used  to  know  one  who  was  in  turn  doctor,  parson, 
undertaker,  justice  of  the  peace,  paper-hanger,  and 
painter.  He  played  all  these  parts  indifferently 
well;  he  was  intelligent,  temperate,  hard-working 
—  and  he  never  had  been  able  to  earn  more  than 
a  bare  living. 


Ill 

THE  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST 


Ill 

THE  WOMEN   OF   THE  WEST 

IEEMEMBER  a  pretty  Californienne  with  whom 
I  used  to  dance,  a  true  daughter  of  the  West, 
charming  on  account  of  her  beauty,  vivacity,  health, 
and  youth.  She  had  never  left  the  Pacific  Slope  — 
except  on  the  wings  of  a  per  fervid  imagination  — 
and  she  afforded  an  amazing  contrast  to  other  young 
women  of  my  acquaintance,  the  gilded  girlies  who  had 
had  what  is  humorously  called  advantages, — a  season 
in  London,  a  winter  in  Eiviera,  a  summer  at  New- 
port, and  so  forth.  Perhaps  I  had  better  say  at 
once  that  in  speaking  of  the  men  and  women  and 
children  of  the  Pacific  Slope,  I  do  not  include  the 
Anglo-Franco-Americans,  who  have  built  around 
themselves  a  stone  wall  that  I,  being  an  English- 
man, am  willing  to  respect. 

Our  pretty  Californienne  dines  in  the  middle  of 
the  day  and  sups  at  six.  The  same  girl,  in  England, 
would  be  painfully  ill  at  ease  in  the  presence  of  a 
stranger.  Moreover,  you  would  note  regretfully 
that  the  English  girl's  skirt  was  ill  hung,  that  her 
hair  was  somewhat  tousled,  that  her  shoes  were 
vilely  cut.  The  Californienne,  on  the  contrary, 
challenges  criticism  out  of  a  pair  of  sparkling  eyes. 
"  Take  a  square  look  at  me,"  she  seems  to  say ;  "  it 
will  brace  you  up."  Should  you  accept  this  invita- 
tion in  sober  earnest,  defiance  will  curve  her  lips 

4 


50     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

into  a  smile.  The  odds  are  she  will  put  you  to 
the  blush  with  the  sharp  question,  "  Anything 
wrong  ? " 

The  first  time  that  I  had  the  honour  of  a  valse 
with  this  young  lady,  I  committed  a  breach  of  eti- 
quette. She  danced  admirably.  I  —  well,  no  man 
is  bound  to  incriminate  himself  —  I  did  my  best. 
But,  after  circling  twice  round  the  room  (the  night 
was  sultry),  I  stopped  and  began  to  talk.  She 
seemed  provoked  at  something,  answered  in  mono- 
syllables, and  when  I  said,  "  Shall  we  go  on  danc- 
ing ?  "  replied  curtly,  "  That 's  what  we  're  here  for." 
After  a  couple  of  turns  I  stopped  again,  and  then 
my  lady  Disdain,  out  of  the  fulness  of  her  heart, 
spoke :  — 

"  It 's  not  hard  to  tell  that  you  're  an  Englishman." 

"Thank  you,"  said  I.     **My  dancing  betrays  me." 

"  Yes,  it  does.  No,  no,  I  don't  mean  that.  You 
dance  fairly  well,  but  —  " 

For  a  couple  of  minutes  she  would  not  budge  from 
her  "  but."  Finally,  she  was  constrained  to  entire 
frankness.  Why  had  I  stopped  twice  without  con- 
sulting her  convenience  ?  I  was  so  paralysed  with 
amazement  that  I  had  no  answer  pat,  save  the  ob- 
vious one.  I  had  stopped  —  so  I  said  —  because,  in 
my  opinion,  it  was  better  to  stop  than  to  fall  down. 

"  Giddy  ? "  she  demanded  incredulously. 

"  Yes ;  giddy." 

"  American  men  never  get  giddy,"  she  observed, 
after  a  significant  pause. 

"If  they  did,"  I  submitted,  "would  they  stop 
without  consulting  their  partner  ?  " 

"  They  would  go  till  they  dropped,"  she  retorted. 


The  Women  of  the  West  5 1 

Did  she  mean  it  literally  ?  Perhaps  not.  But 
truth  underlies  these  idle  words.  The  Western 
man  is  expected  to  "  go  till  he  drops ; "  and  the 
Western  woman  sets  the  pace.  Are  women  judges 
of  pace  ? 

You  may  roughly  divide  the  daughters  of  the 
West  into  two  great  classes  :  the  bond  and  the  free  ; 
those  who  have  leisure  and  those  who  have  none. 
The  woman  of  leisure  is  a  charming  creature ;  clever, 
plastic,  cheery,  and  always  womanly  (the  English 
girl  who  hunts,  shoots,  swears,  and  gambles  has  no 
understudies  on  the  Pacific  Slope) ;  but,  be  she 
maid,  wife,  or  widow,  she  obeys  no  law  save  that  of 
her  own  sweet  will.  There  are  many  exceptions, 
of  course,  but  the  Western  woman  of  leisure,  in 
startling  contrast  to  other  women,  does  what  she 
likes  rather  than  what  she  ought;  although  often 
duty  and  inclination  march  hand  in  hand  ?  If  a 
daughter  of  the  West  sits  up  with  the  sick  child 
of  a  neighbour,  the  chorus  says,  "  How  good  of 
her ! "  The  chorus  does  not  say,  "  How  good  for 
her." 

She  is  unconsciously  the  most  selfish  creature  of 
her  sex.  To  find  her  mate,  you  must  go  to  England 
and  take  the  gilded  youth  who  fondly  thinks  that 
the  world  owes  him  a  living.  He  has  had,  as  a 
rule,  an  expensive  and  superficial  education,  he  can 
talk  glibly  enough  about  most  things  on  this  earth, 
particularly  his  neighbours,  and  his  neighbour's 
wife.  He  has  a  feminine  love  of  being  "  done  well." 
He  will  join  a  great  house-party  and  leave  it  with- 
out saying  good-bye  or  thank-you  to  his  hostess. 
He  will  invite  his  pals  to  drink  his  father's  vintage 


52      Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

champagnes  and  to  shoot  his  father's  coverts  ;  and 
when  the  author  of  his  being  writes  a  fatherly  letter 
complaining  that  his  son's  extravagance  will  force 
him  (the  sire)  to  let  his  town  house  and  spend  the 
season  out  of  town,  the  son  sends  a  postcard  in  reply, 
expressing  his  regret  and  offering  to  rent  the  house 
in  question  himself  !  Once  and  again  a  youth  such 
as  I  have  described  (from  life)  marries  a  daughter 
of  the  Golden  West ;  and  then  Greek  meets  Greek. 
One  girl  I  knew  married  a  man  who  died  under 
peculiarly  tragic  circumstances.  Everybody  con- 
doled with  her,  and  perhaps  she  grew  tired  of  cheap 
verbiage.  At  any  rate  she  silenced  sympathy  one 
day  by  saying,  in  the  most  naive  manner :  "  Yes,  it 
was  dreadful,  dreadful ;  but,  thinking  it  all  over,  I 
would  sooner  it  was  him  than  me  ! " 

It  is  not  uncommon  to  read  in  the  society  notes 
of  a  San  Francisco  paper  that  Miss  X is  enter- 
taining a  party  of  her  friends  at  her  country  place! 
The  country  place  belongs  to  her  father  the  bread- 
winner, but  he  is  seldom  seen  and  as  seldom  heard. 
The  English  father  of  daughters,  loud-voiced,  didac- 
tic, prone  to  fits  of  "  waxiness,"  the  laughing-stock 
of  many,  and  the  terror  of  the  few  unhappy  women 
over  whom  he  rules,  is  unknown  on  the  Pacific 
Slope.  If  a  Californian  father  ventured  to  find  fault 
with  a  daughter,  he  would  be  sent,  metaphorically 
speaking,  to  bed.  For  a  week  he  would  be  given  to 
understand  that  he  was  in  disgrace.  He  would 
have  to  take  his  meals  —  as  it  were  —  at  the  side- 
table. 

The  women  I  am  describing  improve  their  minds 
at  the  expense  of   their  souls.     Culture,  which  — 


The  Women  of  the  West  53 

according  to  Matthew  Arnold  —  is  only  one-fourth 
of  life,  teaches  them  nothing  about  the  vital  three- 
fourths  —  conduct.  The  men  are  busy  making 
money  —  they  have  no  time  to  do  anything  else ; 
but  the  wives  and  daughters  are  taking  French  and 
German  lessons,  studying  Spencer,  or  Maeterlinck, 
or  Mrs.  Mary  Eddy,  devouring,  with  an  appetite 
which  grows  by  what  it  feeds  on,  the  contents  of 
every  new  book,  good  or  bad,  —  in  a  word,  eternally 
busy  in  widening  and  deepening  the  intellectual 
gulf  between  the  men  and  themselves. 

The  men  are  responsible  for  this  state  of  affairs. 
Indeed  they  brag  of  it.  They  are  willing  to  die 
that  their  beloved  may  live.  The  hotels  (and  the 
divorce  courts)  are  full  of  idle '  wives.  Why  ? 
Because  housekeeping  in  a  new  country  is  a  syno- 
nym of  work.  Many  a  good  fellow  has  said  to  me, 
"  My  wife,  sir,  shall  not  work,  so  long  as  I  can  work 
for  her." 

None  of  these  butterflies  are  happy.  Mark  the 
quality  of  their  laughter.  Note  the  tinkle  of 
raillery.  The  educated  daughter  of  the  West  would 
sooner  laugh  at  you  than  with  you. 

This  one-sided  condition  of  things  cannot  be 
dismissed  with  a  phrase.  In  all  new  countries, 
there  is  a  time  when  woman  is  compelled  to  bear 
dreadful  burdens.  Look  at  the  pioneers,  —  the 
men  who  advanced  step  by  step  into  the  wilder- 
ness, performing  prodigies  of  labour,  hewing  down 
vast  forests,  reclaiming  hideous  swamps,  irrigating 
the  barren  places,  for  ever  working  and  fighting, 
the  prey  of  wild  beasts  and  wild  men,  the  heroes, 
who,  despite  all  obstacles,  perhaps  because  of  them. 


54      Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

triumphantly  vindicated  their  unparalleled  patience 
and  energy,  —  these  were  accompanied  by  their 
wives,  the  mothers  and  grandmothers  of  the 
daughters  of  the  West.  Stop  and  think  what 
these  women,  some  of  them  delicately  nurtured, 
suffered  and  endured.  Think  not  only  of  the 
physical  ills,  but  of  the  mental  worries  and  anxie- 
ties :  the  sense  of  isolation,  the  impending  sword 
of  death  and  disease,  the  possibility  of  what  is 
worse  than  death,  —  torture  and  dishonour. 

Is  it  then  to  be  wondered  at  that  when  a  brighter 
day  dawned  for  these  men  they  realised  what  was 
owing  to  their  wives  ?  And  have  they  not  be- 
queathed the  sense  of  this  obligation  to  their  sons  ? 
Can  you  not  hear  them  saying,  "Nothing  that 
this  world  can  give  is  too  good  for  the  women  of 
the  West"? 

And  accordingly  she  has  been  exalted,  and  the 
hands  that  placed  the  idol  on  high  are  loath  to  pull 
it  down.  Indeed,  so  beloved  are  their  women  by 
the  men  of  the  West  that  some  of  them  (a  few), 
who  are  truly  no  more  than  graven  images,  have 
been  given  articulate  speech.  I  know  one  man,  a 
charming  fellow,  witty  and  humorous  and  the 
husband  of  a  stupid  wife.  Again  and  again  he  has 
told  me  what  his  wife  has  said  upon  subjects  whose 
very  names,  I  am  convinced,  are  Greek  to  her.  I 
have  never  failed  on  such  occasions  to  express  my 
sense  of  his  wife's  wit,  and  upon  my  soul  I  am 
beginning  to  believe  that  my  Pygmalion  really 
gives  his  Galatea  credit  for  the  good  things  which 
he  puts  into  her  mouth.  Such  a  husband  brings 
no  business  cares  to  his  shrine.     Often  the  divinity 


The  Women  of  the  West  55 

is  the  last  to  learn  that  the  worshipper  who  has 
decked  her  with  diamonds  is  on  the  eve  of  bank- 
ruptcy. But  let  it  never  be  forgotten  that  when 
adversity  comes  the  idol  steps  quickly  down  from 
her  pedestal.  The  shrine  is  dismantled.  The 
divinity  enters  the  kitchen.  And  you  can  wager 
that  she  soon  learns  how  to  cook  an  excellent 
dinner. 

Again,  in  early  days  the  men  were  many,  the 
women  were  few,  and,  as  a  commodity  in  the 
marriage  mart,  of  extravagant  value.  It  is  unfair 
to  say  that  they  went  to  the  highest  bidder,  for 
Western  girls  are  not  mercenary  in  the  sense  that 
applies  to  the  daughters  of  May  fair,  but  naturally 
they  fell  into  the  arms  of  the  rich  rather  than  the 
poor.  Indeed,  a  poor  man,  unable  to  give  his  wife 
the  luxuries  of  life,  remained  at  the  mines  or  on 
the  plains  —  a  bachelor. 

Another  reason  :  the  last.  At  a  time  when  vast 
fortunes  were  made  and  lost  in  a  few  weeks  or 
months,  it  was  part  of  the  general  scheme  of  things 
to  make  hay  while  the  sun  of  prosperity  was  shin- 
ing. The  man  who  had  sold  a  big  herd  of  fat 
steers,  who  had  struck  a  rich  lead  at  the  mines, 
who  held  booming  stocks,  was  not  one  to  grudge 
his  wife  a  few  diamonds  or  an  extra  dress  or  two. 
Freely  they  had  received,  as  freely  they  gave. 
And  so,  petted  and  pampered,  with  not  a  caprice 
left  unsatisfied,  the  women  of  the  West,  touched 
to  the  finest  issues  by  poverty  and  hardship,  were 
by  prosperity  debased  and  discoloured.  Not  long 
ago  a  friend  of  mine  met  a  charming  woman  on 
one  of  the  big  Atlantic  liners.     She  confided  to  him 


56      Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

her  plans  for  her  honeymoon.  Nothing  was  want- 
ing, seemingly,  but  a  husband.  He  —  it  appeared 
—  had  been  left  behind  in  San  Francisco. 


Let  us  turn  now  to  the  women  who  earn  their 
own  living :  the  type-writers,  the  stenographers, 
the  book-keepers,  the  telegraph  and  telephone  girls, 
the  doctors,  and  insurance  agents.  The  fact  that  a 
girl  can  and  does  earn  a  fair  living  gives  her  a  sense 
of  independence  and  a  self-possession  quite  admirable. 
But  often,  avoiding  the  Scylla  of  ineptitude,  she 
is  engulfed  in  the  Charybdis  of  a  too  strenuous 
endeavour.  She  is  pushing  behind  a  coach  that 
already  is  over-horsed.  Whatever  she  may  accom- 
plish to-day,  to-morrow  must  hold  for  her  sickness 
and  disappointment,  —  the  protest  of  the  body  femi- 
nine against  uses  to  which  it  is  ill-adapted,  the 
protest  of  the  mind  whose  desires  have  outgrown 
performance.  There  is  a  loss  —  who  can  deny  it  ? 
—  of  womanliness.  Does  this  loss  to  a  community 
outweigh  the  gain  ? 

Some  years  ago  I  walked  into  my  office,  and  found 
at  my  desk,  in  my  chair,  reading  my  paper,  an 
insurance  agent.  She  was  tall,  well-dressed,  and 
had  the  impudence  and  insolence  of  her  tribe. 
With  these  weapons  she  had  fought  her  way  past 
my  clerk,  and  through  a  door  marked  "  Private." 
When  she  saw  me  she  smiled  and  nodded. 

"  I  'm  making  myself  to  home,"  she  said  blandly. 

"  So  I  see,"  was  my  reply. 

"  Won't  you  be  seated  ? " 

"  You  are  very  kind." 

I  sat  down  and  waited. 


The  Women  of  the  West  57 

"  Do  you  carry  life  insurance  ? "  she  asked. 

"  I  do,  madam." 

"  In  what  companies,  sir  ? " 

"Upon  my  honour,  madam,  I  do  not  see  how 
that  concerns  you." 

She  explained  that  she  represented  a  new  com- 
pany, that  an  exchange  would  benefit  both  of  us, 
and  so  on  and  so  forth.  After  five  minutes  of  this 
I  said  quietly, — 

"  I  am  sure  that  your  time  is  money  to  you,  so 
I  tell  you  frankly  that  I  have  gone  into  the  subject 
of  insurance,  that  I  belong  to  an  old-line  company, 
and  that  nothing  you  can  say  will  make  me  leave 
it.     And  so  I  wish  you  — •  Good-morning." 

The  hint  was  wasted.  For  another  ten  minutes 
her  tongue  wagged  faster  that  a  terrier's  tail.  By 
this  time  I  had  almost  forgotten  her  sex. 

"Madam,"  said  I,  "I  made  a  mistake  just  now. 
I  perceive  that  your  time  is  not  worth  much,  not 
as  much  as  —  mine,  for  instance.  I  wish  you  again 
—  Good-morning." 

I  rose,  and  held  open  the  door.  She  rose  also, 
somewhat  after  the  fashion  of  the  immortal  Sairey 
Gamp. 

"You  are  an  Englishman,"  she  said,  and  there 
was  not  sugar  enough  left  in  her  voice  to  sweeten 
a  fairy's  cup  of  tea. 

"lam." 

"Yes,  you  are.  And  let  me  tell  you,  sir,  that 
you  are  the  rudest  Englishman  I  have  ever  met. 
Good-morning,  sir." 

I  did  not  grudge  her  the  last  word. 

A  well-known   Californian   tells   another  story. 


58     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

He  was  standing  in  some  public  office,  chatting 
with  other  men,  when  a  brazen-faced  lady  sailed 
into  the  room,  note-book  in  hand,  interrogation  on 
her  brow.  She  was,  it  seemed,  the  moving  pillar 
of  flame  of  some  organisation  that  had  concerned 
itself,  amongst  many  matters,  with  female  suffrage. 
This  Gorgon  approached  a  man,  and  addressed 
him,  — 

"  Are  you  in  favour  of  woman's  suffrage,  sir  ? " 

"  Most  emphatically  I  am  not,"  he  replied. 

"You  are  not.  Your  name,  sir,  —  and  your 
address  ? " 

The  man  stammered  out  both  name  and  ad- 
dress. The  lady  marched  on,  asking  each  the 
same  questions.  None  refused  their  names  or  ad- 
dresses.    Finally,  she  tackled  a  stout  farmer. 

"  Are  you  in  favour  of  woman's  suffrage,  sir  ? " 

"  I  am  not,"  he  replied.  "  Indeed,  I  think  there 
are  fools  enough  in  pants  voting  already." 

"  Sir-r-r-r  ! ! !     Your  name,  your  address  ?" 

The  stout  farmer  eyed  her  calmly.  The  other 
men  waited  a-quiver  with  expectation.  The  stout 
farmer  conveyed  somehow  the  impression  that  he 
would  stand  his  ground,  and  vindicate  the  superi- 
ority of  the  male. 

"  That  is  none  of  your  d d  business,"  said  he, 

very  deliberately. 

The  Gorgon  stared  into  his  impassive  face.  Then 
she  turned  and  confronted  the  others.  Nobody 
smiled  or  frowned.  But  the  sense  of  the  meeting 
had  been  adequately  set  forth  by  the  stout  farmer. 
The  lady  fled. 

There  are  many  such  women  in  the  West,  and 


The  Women  of  the  West  59 

they  make  the  lives  of  their  "  men  folks,"  as  they 
are  pleased  to  call  them,  abjectly  miserable.  The 
following  anecdote,  not  a  new  one  to  Western  read- 
ers, illustrates  the  man's  point  of  view.  A  long- 
suffering  husband  was  burying  his  wife.  The  coffin 
had  been  taken  from  the  hearse  by  the  pall-bearers, 
and  was  being  carried  through  the  somewhat  nar- 
row gate  of  the  cemetery.  It  chanced  that  in 
passing  through  the  gate,  the  coffin  was  thrust 
hard  against  one  of  the  posts.  Almost  immedi- 
ately, to  the  amazement  of  the  mourners,  a  muffled 
scream  was  heard.  The  lid  was  hastily  unscrewed. 
And,  lo !  the  woman  was  not  dead  at  all.  She 
was  taken  home  and  lived  for  three  more  years. 
Then  she  died  again.  At  the  funeral,  as  the  coffin 
was  being  lowered  from  the  hearse,  the  husband 
addressed  the  bearers  very  solemnly:  "Boys  — 
mind  that  post." 

We  come  now  to  the  Western  woman  who  leads 
the  double  life,  —  the  life  of  the  peasant  and  the 
gentlewoman.  There  are  hundreds  of  these  be- 
tween San  Diego  and  Victoria,  nay,  thousands, 
who,  as  a  factor  in  the  future  of  the  Pacific  Slope, 
challenge  attention  —  and  pity.  Personally  I  can 
conceive  nothing  more  pathetic,  more  heart-break- 
ing, than  the  spectacte  of  a  gently  nurtured  girl 
constrained  by  poverty  to  bake  and  wash  and 
sweep,  to  play  the  parts  of  cook,  nurse,  wife,  ser- 
vant, and  washerwoman,  and  yet,  by  virtue  of  what 
is  bred  in  her,  constrained  also  to  dress  as  a  lady 
dresses,  to  eat  what  a  lady  eats,  to  read  what  a 
lady  reads.  Here,  again,  the  curse  of  a  new  coun- 
try, the  insatiable  desire  to  appear  other  than  what 


6o     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

you  are  and  ought  to  be,  grinds  these  unhappy 
women  to  powder.  They  wish  —  they  will  tell 
you  —  to  keep  up  with  the  procession  !  Where  is 
the  American  sense  of  humour?  The  men  know 
that  the  double  life  cannot  be  lived.  Accordingly, 
they  give  their  undivided  attention  to  business. 
When  success  crowns  his  labours,  the  Westerner 
can  —  and  often  does  —  apply  himself  diligently  to 
art,  or  letters,  or  politics,  and  the  powers  of  con- 
centration that  made  him  a  man  of  money  serve 
also  to  make  him  a  man  of  culture;  but  what 
chance  has  the  woman  who  wishes  to  make  soup 
and  poetry  in  the  same  place  and  at  the  same 
time  ?  She  is  sure  to  forget  to  put  salt  into  either. 
It  is  easier  to  bale  out  an  ocean  with  a  pitchfork 
than  to  live  successfully  the  double  life.  Think  of 
Browning  and  —  basting,  of  a  crying  baby  and 
French  irregular  verbs,  of  kitchen  odours  and 
Herbert  Spencer.  The  end  is  inevitable.  These 
women  die,  worn  out.  Before  their  first  boy  is 
breeched  the  colour  and  form  and  fragrance  of 
life  have  fled.  And  they  leave  to  their  children  — 
what?  A  taint,  in  a  sense,  as  of  scrofula,  the 
stigmata  of  the  suffering  and  sorrow  that  wait  on 
failure.  These  children  in  their  turn  will  try  to 
shave  Shagpat.  Their  moth-er,  in  the  attempt  to 
do  two  things  at  once,  has  given  them  indigestible 
food  for  mind  and  body.  Upon  the  graves  of  these 
unhappy  women  should  be  inscribed  the  famous 
French  line :  "  Malheureuse  est  I'ignorance,  et  plus 
malheureux  le  savoir." 

A  feature  of  home  life  in  the  West  to  which  — 
so  far  as  I  know  —  no  writer  has  drawn  attention, 


The  Women  of  the  West  6 1 

is  the  gradual  backsliding  of  maternal  love  and 
tenderness  as  the  child  grows  older.  This  is  so  in- 
sidious as  to  escape  the  notice  of  most  persons  — 
particularly  the  parents ;  but  amongst  nearly  all 
classes  in  the  West  —  as  in  the  upper  and  upper- 
middle  class  of  England  —  there  is  an  animal  love 
of  the  very  young,  a  wish  to  cuddle,  and  kiss,  and 
flatter,  and  dress,  and  spoil  the  little  ones,  a  love 
which  diminishes  as  imperceptibly,  but  as  surely,  as 
the  adored  object  increases.  And  the  men  like  to 
see  it.  They  take  the  mother  at  her  own  valuation. 
She  tells  them  that  she  loves  babies,  that  she 
is  so  fond  of  children ;  and  they  believe  it !  These 
women  always  sigh  because  their  children  are 
growing  up.  The  child  is,  or  ought  to  be,  develop- 
ing, maturing,  becoming  in  short  a  human  being, 
ceasing  to  be  a  kitten  or  a  puppy ;  and  this  —  say 
the  mothers  —  is  cause  for  regret.  And  as  a  rule,  it 
is  cause  for  regret.  The  child  is  growing  up  to  be 
vain,  hard,  selfish,  deformed  in  mind,  perhaps  in 
body  —  essentially  unlovable.  Some  wit  said  that 
the  spinsters  of  England  were  the  mothers  of  Eng- 
lish gentlemen.  He  was  alluding  to  the  nurses, 
the  governesses,  the  maiden  aunts,  the  plain  elder 
sisters,  who  do  not  perhaps  kiss  and  cuddle,  but 
who  patiently  and  laboriously,  day  after  day,  month 
after  month,  year  after  year,  shape  and  prune  and 
water  the  tender  plants  committed  to  their  charge. 
And  these  are  the  women  whom  the  men  of  the 
world  hold  cheap !  I  never  meet  a  mother  but  I 
wonder  whether  her  children  are  denied,  not  kisses, 
but  that  love  which  finds  expression  in  ceaseless 
ministration  to  the  mental  and  moral  faculties.     I 


62     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

know  one  mother  —  it  is  a  privilege  to  know  her  — 
who  is  in  and  of  the  West.  She  has  no  servants, 
no  sister,  not  even  a  friend  to  help  her  care  for  her 
three  children.  Does  she  hug  her  little  ones  in  pub- 
lic ?  Not  she.  But  she  gives  them  hours  of  patient 
teaching  and  gentle  correction.  And  when  her  chil- 
dren grow  up  she  will  have  her  reward. 

There  are  many  such  in  the  West,  but  there 
might  be  so  many  more.  And,  mark  you,  the  "  ani- 
mal" mother,  beneath  the  veneer  of  tenderness  is 
hard  —  hard  as  the  nether  millstone  ;  and  her  hard- 
ness grinds  to  powder  the  gawky  hobbledehoys  and 
hoydens  who  are  not  a  credit  to  her  whom  they 
have  the  misfortune  of  calling  —  mother ! 

Some  of  my  readers  will  remember  a  paragraph 
of  Daudet's  in  that  delightful  book  Fromont  Jeune 
et  Risler  Aim.  It  is  so  pat  that  I  cannot  forbear 
quoting  it :  a  translation  would  spoil  it. 

"  Ce  que  Sidonie  enviait  par-dessus  tout  a  Claire, 
c'^tait  I'enfant,  le  poupou  luxueux,  enrubann^  de- 
puis  les  rideaux  de  son  berceau  jusqu'au  bonnet  de 
sa  nourrice.  Elle  ne  songeait  pas  aux  devoirs  doux, 
pleins  de  patience  et  d'abn^gation,  aux  longs  berce- 
ments  des  sommeils  difficiles,  aux  r^veils  rieurs, 
^tincelants  d'eau  fraiche.  Non !  dans  I'enfant,  elle 
ne  voyait  que  la  promenade.  .  .  ." 

The  women  of  the  Pacific  Slope  have  indirect 
control  of  the  churches  and  schools.  We  are  told 
that  "the  hand  that  rocks  the  cradle  is  the  hand 
that  rules  the  world,"  but  in  the  West  it  not  infre- 
quently happens  that  in  attempting  to  rule  the 
world,  the  cradle  is  allowed  to  stand  still.     Work  is 


The  Women  of  the  West  63 

done  in  churches  and  schools  that  might  be  better 
done  at  home.  It  would  seem  as  if  the  women  of 
the  West,  living  in  a  country  where  everything  is 
on  a  large  scale,  were  absolutely  unable  to  see  what 
is  small.  With  their  eyes  fixed  on  the  mountains 
they  ignore  the  molehills.  The  men  will  tell  you, 
with  a  fine  disregard  of  ancient  wisdom,  that  if  you 
take  care  of  the  dollars,  the  cents  will  take  care  of 
themselves.  Such  matters  are  ordered  better  in 
France.  There  the  men  make  the  francs,  and  the 
women  save  the  centimes.  But  in  the  West  the 
dollars  made  by  the  men  are  squandered  by  the 
women.  And  the  children  buy  candy  with  the 
cents. 

Perhaps  the  word  "  squander  "  is  ill-chosen.  The 
Western  woman  is  keen  to  get  what  she  calls  "  value 
received  "  for  her  money.  She  will  spend  a  morning 
as  lightly  as  a  dollar,  looking  over  samples  at  a  dry- 
goods  store.  Generally  speaking,  she  buys  some- 
thing unsuited  to  her  station  in  life  and  her  husband's 
monthly  income.  You  see  more  trash  upon  the 
counters  of  Western  shops  than  anywhere  else  in 
the  world :  cheap  shoes,  cheap  clothes,  cheap  jew- 
elry, cheap  underwear.  What  is  plain  and  service- 
able finds  no  favour  and  no  sale. 

Some  of  the  men  and  women  who  think  about 
these  things  have  said  to  me  that  what  is  wanted  is 
an  example:  a  Koosevelt  in  petticoats,  who  will 
preach  and  practise  the  gospel  of  simplicity  and 
thrift.  One  cannot  help  feeling  that  such  work  — 
now  that  the  war  is  over  —  might  be  undertaken 
by  the  Eed  Cross  Society.  Comfort  is  one  of  the 
most  alluring  words  in  the  English  language,  but  in 


64      Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

the  West  it  is  found  for  the  most  part  only  in  dic- 
tionaries. It  is  conspicuously  sacrificed  to  show  in 
the  palaces  of  the  very  rich,  and  it  has  never  en- 
tered the  cottages  of  the  poor.  You  may  find  it  in 
the  homes  of  what  would  be  called  in  England  the 
middle  class,  especially  amongst  the  Jews,  but  even 
here  it  is  jostled  and  pinched  by  its  bastard  brother 
Display.  The  women  of  the  West  are  very  hospi- 
table, but  at  their  luncheons  and  dinners  you  are 
sensible  that  too  much  is  attempted.  A  lady  with 
one  servant  entertains  upon  the  same  scale  as  her 
neighbour  who  has  four.  Many  of  the  dishes  she 
has  prepared  herself ;  and  in  consequence  she  comes 
to  table  a  physical  wreck,  unable  to  eat,  unable  to 
talk.  In  such  houses  a  famine  follows  the  feast; 
after  the  guests  have  departed  the  mistress  takes  to 
her  bed. 

Speaking  of  examples,  it  is  a  pleasure  to  cite  Mrs. 
Phoebe  Hearst  and  Mrs.  Jane  Stanford.  These 
ladies  own  and  control  many  millions  of  dollars. 
They  are  the  widows  of  two  senators  who  began  life 
poor  and  obscure  men.  Senator  Stanford  was  one 
of  four  who  conceived  and  carried  to  a  successful 
issue  the  building  of  that  colossal  railroad  which 
linked  the  West  to  the  East.  Senator  Hearst  was 
a  famous  miner.  The  bulk  of  their  fortunes  will 
eventually  be  absorbed  by  the  two  Universities  of 
California.  One  can  conceive  no  nobler  use  for 
great  wealth  than  this:  the  endowment  and  equip- 
ment upon  the  most  munificent  scale  of  institutions 
whose  doors  stand  open  to  all  who  are  worthy  to 
enter  them.  To  this  single  end  Mrs.  Stanford  has 
devoted  her  fortune  and  her  life.     It  is  a  fact  that 


The  Women  of  the  West  65 

when  the  Leland  Stanford  Junior  University  was  in 
sore  financial  straits,  she  denied  herself  no  sacrifice, 
living  in  poverty  and  seclusion  until  the  dun  days 
were  past.  More,  at  an  age  when  most  women  count 
themselves  entitled  to  rest  in  peace,  she  mastered 
those  difficult  arts  by  which  alone  great  trusts  are 
properly  administered.  She  became  a  woman  of 
business,  the  slave  of  innumerable  interests,  shifting 
responsibilities  to  none,  the  patient  indefatigable 
worker  and  executrix.  The  same  may  be  said  of 
Mrs.  Hearst. 

To  women  such  as  these,  the  Pacific  Slope  owes 
an  incalculable  debt.  The  money,  vast  sum  that  it 
is,  which  they  give  is  the  least  part  of  that  debt. 
The  sleepless  nights,  the  anxious  days,  the  physical 
exhaustion  —  can  these  be  computed  ? 

The  girls  of  the  West  marry  for  love.  Very  often 
the  daughter  of  a  rich  man,  accustomed  to  every 
luxury,  marries  a  poor  clerk,  or  a  struggling  lawyer 
or  doctor  ;  and  while  the  struggles  last  she  almost 
invariably  proves  a  loyal  and  tender  helpmeet. 
Adversity  would  seem  to  link  such  lovers  with 
golden  fetters ;  prosperity  tears  them  apart.  It 
is  curious  to  note  that  the  rich  father  rarely  makes 
his  daughter  an  allowance,  no  matter  how  sharply 
poverty  pinches  her.  There  may  be  virtue  in  this 
Spartan  discipline  (I  believe  there  is  more  than 
we  suspect),  but  to  English  eyes  it  appears  un- 
necessarily rigorous.  There  is  a  true  story  of  a 
millionaire  who  gave  his  daughter  a  very  large 
fortune  when  she  came  of  age.  Later,  she  married 
against  his  wishes  a  poor  man,  and  the  father  said 

5 


66     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

bitterly  that  if  he  had  been  vouchsafed  a  glimpse 
of  the  future,  his  daughter  would  have  gone  penni- 
less to  the  man  of  her  choice.  The  daughter,  with 
her  husband's  consent,  in  accordance,  perhaps,  with 
his  wishes,  returned  her  fortune  to  the  father  —  and 
he  accepted  it. 

The  women  of  the  West  have  undertaken  one 
colossal  labour.  They  have  not  sprinkled  the 
demon  Drink  with  their  tears;  they  have  fought 
him  tooth  and  nail.  For  many  years  it  seemed 
to  me  that  the  advocates  of  Temperance,  a  synonym 
in  the  West  for  Total  Abstinence,  were  far  too 
radical  in  their  proposed  reforms.  Myself  a  mod- 
erate drinker,  believing  then  (as  I  believe  now) 
that  a  glass  of  wine  with  one's  dinner  is  far  more 
wholesome  than  a  cup  of  strong  tea  or  coffee,  and 
infinitely  less  injurious  than  the  lime-saturated 
water  of  the  Pacific  Slope,  I  could  find  no  words 
strong  enough  to  condemn  those  who,  styling  them- 
selves temperate,  proved  in  debate  to  be  the  exact 
opposite.  Since  then  I  have  learned  to  look  at  the 
matter  from  the  woman's  point  of  view.  I  must 
admit,  very  reluctantly,  that  nothing  short  of  the 
knife  will  cut  out  this  cancer.  I  hold  no  brief 
for  the  W.C.T.U.,  I  pronounce  Prohibition  a  sorry 
plank  in  any  political  platform,  but  I  do  believe 
that  working  amongst  individuals^  fathers,  hus- 
bands, and  brothers,  the  women  are  justified  in 
demanding  total  abstinence;  they  are  not  likely 
to  obtain  it.  It  seems  almost  impossible  for  the 
average  man  of  the  West  to  confine  himself  to  a 
pint  of  light  claret  a  day.  The  experiment  has 
been  tried  again  and  again ;  it  has  always  failed. 


The  Women  of  the  West  67 

And  in  the  past  seventeen  years  I  have  seen  so 
many  seemingly  sound  apples  drop  rotten  from 
the  tree  —  gin-sodden  and  worthless.  In  England 
drunkenness  is  confined  to  a  certain  class ;  the 
drunkards  of  the  West  are  ubiquitous.  You  find 
them  everywhere  —  except,  be  it  said,  in  the  pulpit. 
The  doctors,  the  lawyers,  the  business  men  are 
the  worst  offenders,  for  they  nip,  nip,  nip,  all  day 
long,  till  they  become  —  as  they  are  called  — 
whisky-tanks,  and  cease,  for  the  practical  purposes 
of  life,  to  be  men  at  all.  What  has  been  done  to 
check  the  growth  of  this  monstrous  tumour  has 
been  done  by  the  women,  and  to  them  be  the 
credit. 

There  are  some  public  positions  which  women 
fill  with  genuine  dignity.  At  the  outbreak  of  the 
late  war,  a  Ked  Cross  Society  was  organised  in  San 
Francisco  (I  think),  with  branches  all  over  the 
Pacific  Slope.  The  Society  concerned  itself  with 
the  welfare  of  the  American  soldier,  and  in  particu- 
lar the  American  volunteer,  for  whose  comfort  those 
in  authority  had  made  inadequate  provision.  One 
regiment  arrived  in  San  Francisco  to  find  itself  with- 
out rations.  It  is  true  that  a  banquet  was  prepared 
for  the  officers  at  the  Palace  Hotel,  but  the  men 
would  have  gone  without  food  for  twenty-four  hours 
had  it  not  been  for  the  Eed  Cross  Society.  It  was  a 
flagrant  case  of  Eed  Tape  versus  Ked  Cross,  and  the 
Ked  Cross  was  not  found  wanting. 

I  have  found  in  country-bred  girls  an  air,  a  grace, 
a  charm  quite  irresistible.  And  you  cannot  classify 
them  collectively.  The  typical  Western  girl  does 
not  exist.     Each  is  unique,  a  study  in  white,  or  red, 


68      Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

or  blue,  or  yellow  (primary  colours,  mark  you)  ;  each 
appeals  to  the  curiosity,  not  to  mention  the  cupidity, 
of  the  male  ;  each,  too,  has  a  chameleon-like  facility 
of  adapting  herself  to  her  environment  without  sac- 
rificing an  iota  of  her  personality.  Many  English- 
men waste  valuable  time  in  making  up  what  they 
call  their  minds  upon  purely  domestic  matters.  In 
the  West,  the  daughters  generously  assume  this 
task.  Without  the  circle  of  politics  and  business, 
the  young  American  man  follows  wherever  his  sis- 
ter, or  some  other  man's  sister,  may  lead.  About 
this  spinster,  moreover,  are  no  skirts  of  compromise : 
those  clogging  garments  which  cramp  and  compress 
the  walk,  the  talk,  the  very  thoughts  of  the  English 
miss. 

Perhaps  the  common  denominator  of  the  young 
women  of  the  West  is  a  magnificent  charlatanerie ; 
an  imposture  that  would  be  ridiculous  if  it  were  not 
sublime.  Each  pretends  to  be  what  she  is  not; 
each  thinks  herself  the  superior  of  the  women  in 
the  classes  below  hers,  the  equal  of  those  in  the 
classes  above ;  each  strives  to  appear  cleverer, 
younger,  wittier,  and  prettier  than  God  intended 
her  to  be.  Indeed,  it  is  an  impertinence  to  speak 
of  them  as  women  ;  they  are  all  —  ladies.  And  all 
are  ambitious.  The  ambition  of  the  wife  spurs  the 
husband  to  efforts  beyond  his  strength.  Living  as 
they  do  in  the  country  of  infinite  possibilities,  the 
humblest  unconsciously  try  to  fit  themselves  for 
positions  that  but  few  are  destined  to  occupy.  I  re- 
member, many  years  ago,  being  accosted  by  a  tramp, 
who  asked  me  for  money  wherewith  to  buy  "  a  bite 
of  something  to  eat."     I  gave  him  a  small  coin,  re- 


The  Women  of  the  West  69 

marking  that  in  my  opinion  he  was  likely  to  spend 
it  on  "  a  bite  of  something  to  drink."  As  he  moved 
away,  ragged  and  forlorn,  my  father-in-law,  who 
was  with  me,  said  soberly :  "  You  should  not  cut 
jokes  with  free-born  American  citizens.  That  fel- 
low may  live  to  be  senator  of  this  State." 

The  balance  must  be  adjusted  between  the  woman 
who  does  not  work  at  all  and  the  woman  who  works 
too  hard.  I  am  of  opinion  that  a  radical  change 
is  taking  place  in  the  hearts  and  heads  of  the  women 
themselves.  I  have  already  said  that  adversity 
brings  out  and  develops  what  is  best  in  the  Western 
woman.  The  hard  times  have  given  them  a  clearer 
perception  of  values,  a  saner  common  sense.  En- 
vironment is  more  potent  than  heredity.  The  New 
England  women,  for  instance,  bring  with  them  to 
the  West  the  qualities  that  distinguish  them,  —  a 
love  of  truth  and  duty  and  renunciation ;  and  as  a 
rule  these  good  gifts  abide  with  them  till  they  die. 
But  their  daughters  born  in  the  West  will  be  of  the 
West;  and  as  the  West  changes,  sloughing  its  skin, 
so  will  they  change,  in  obedience  to  the  laws  of 
evolution,  till  they  stand  at  length,  strong  and  tri- 
umphant upon  the  pyramid  of  experience,  not  what 
they  are  to-day,  but  what  they  ought  to  be  — 
to-morrow. 


IV 

THE  CHILDREN  OF  THE  WEST 


IV 

THE  CHILDEEN   OF  THE  WEST 

IT  has  been  said  that  the  pioneers  were  the  salt 
of  the  earth,  but  their  children  have  been 
reared  for  the  most  part  as  if  they  were  sugar. 
A  man  who  has  practised  rigid  self-denial,  who 
knows  —  none  better  —  what  he  has  lost,  as  well 
as  what  he  has  gained,  and  who,  perhaps,  lacking 
a  perfect  sense  of  proportion,  is  apt  to  overestimate 
the  value  of  advantages  he  has  been  forced  to 
forego,  —  an  academic  education,  for  instance,  cul- 
ture, sport,  in  fine,  the  amenities  of  life,  —  such  a 
one,  sitting  alone  in  his  counting-house,  may  well 
swear  that  his  children  shall  drink  freely  of  the 
^  cup  denied  to  him.  And  how  can  he  —  poor  fellow 
—  be  expected  to  foresee  the  results :  intoxication, 
folly,  bitterness? 

Many  a  father  in  the  West  has  said:  "My  son 
is  not  like  me ;  we  have  nothing  in  common." 

"  Why  should  he  be  like  you  ? "  one  might  reply. 
"You  have  kept  him  in  cotton  wool;  you  have 
humoured  his  whims;  you  have  taught  him  to 
consider  himself  alone.  Now  you  complain  that 
he  is  selfish,  indolent,  and  extravagant.  Who  made 
him  so?" 

This  question  the  fathers  of  the  West  are  un- 
willing to  answer.  One  can  conceive  no  more 
pathetic  condition   of  affairs:   a   father   successful 


74     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice,  conscious  of  powers 
turned  to  rich  account,  respected  and  admired  by 
his  fellows,  a  pillar  of  his  State,  and  yet  sensible 
that  in  the  greatest  thing  of  all,  in  the  administra- 
tion of  the  most  stupendous  trust,  in  the  care  and 
culture  of  his  own  flesh  and  blood  —  he  has  failed  ; 
that  he  has  killed  his  best-beloved  son  with  —  too 
much  kindness ! 

This  kindness,  as  in  the  case  of  King  Lear,  often 
breeds  rank  ingratitude,  especially  amongst  the 
poor.  Here  is  a  story  —  I  cannot  vouch  for  the 
truth  of  it  —  which  illustrates  a  relation  that  too 
often  exists  between  son  and  father.  The  son  is 
speaking.  "  Yas  —  I  've  had  the  worst  kind  o'  luck 
with  the  old  man.  I  knew  he  was  ailin',  so  I  paid 
his  expenses  out  from  Missourah,  and  fed  him  the 
best  o'  corn  all  through  the  fall  and  winter.  And 
then,  when  spring  come  and  I  was  a  calculatin' 
that  I  'd  get  a  summer's  work  out  of  him,  he  up 
and  died  !  "  j 

Throughout  the  West,  in  the  cottages  of  the  poor 
and  in  the  mansions  of  the  rich,  you  will  find 
fathers  and  mothers  the  slaves  of  their  children. 
The  poor  work  their  fingers  to  the  bone  in  order 
that  the  little  ones  may  wear  clothes  quite  unsuited 
to  their  station  in  life.  Upon  a  hundred  ranches 
I  have  seen  mothers  cooking,  washing,  sewing, 
while  the  daughters  of  the  house  were  reading 
novels  or  playing  the  piano.  I  have  known  a 
mother  make  her  own  underclothing  out  of  flour 
sacks,  when  her  little  girl  was  wearing  silk. 

"  They  can  only  have  a  good  time  once,"  is  the 
cant  phrase  of  these  altruists. 


The  Children  of  the  West  75 

It  never  seems  to  occur  to  them  to  consider 
whether  or  not  the  children  are  "having  a  good 
time."  Certainly,  compared  with  the  children 
of  other  countries  —  France,  Germany,  England  — 
they  lack  mirth  fulness.  Perhaps  they  are  sensible, 
poor  little  dears,  of  the  sacrifices  made  on  their 
behalf ;  perhaps  the  strife  around  them,  which  they 
passively  witness  every  hour  of  the  day,  has  entered 
like  iron  into  their  souls;  perhaps  they,  in  common 
with  their  elders,  attempt  too  much  and  learn  too 
soon  the  weariness  of  satiety.  I  have  talked  with 
little  maids  of  four,  who  knew  that  their  dolls  were 
stuffed  with  sawdust.  I  have  seen  the  same  little 
maids  pull  down  their  tiny  skirts,  blushing.  O,  ye 
Prunes  and  Prisms !  Ought  a  little  girl  of  four  to 
know  that  she  has  —  legs  ?  I  remember  one  miss 
of  seven  (a  born  coquette,  by  the  way)  who  hon- 
oured me  with  her  friendship.  She  was  in  my 
room  when  I  was  unpacking  a  portmanteau,  and 
she  took  the  greatest  interest  in  my  coloured  shirts. 
Presently  she  said  softly,  "  My  father  buys  my 
frocks,  but  Auntie  gets  my  underclothes."  Then 
she  added,  with  a  queer  little  stare,  ''Perhaps  I 
ought  not  to  mention  underclothes  to  a  gentleman." 

When  they  go  to  school,  and  they  go  too  soon, 
evil  besmirches  them.  From  what  I  have  learned 
from  many  parents,  it  is  safe  to  assert  that  inno- 
cence is  seldom  found  in  the  country  schools  of 
the  West.  One  hesitates  to  indict  a  system  of 
education  that  in  many  respects  works  admirably. 
One  knows  that  a  mother  who  is  both  cook  and 
housekeeper  cannot  play  the  part  of  schoolmistress. 
And  one  sympathises  with  a  natural  ambition  which 


76     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

confounds  means  with  ends.  If  a  smattering  of 
book-learning  is  the  be-all  and  end-all  of  education, 
the  mothers  of  the  West  are  justified  in  sending 
their  little  girls  to  school.  If,  on  the  other  hand, 
purity  of  mind,  modesty,  unselfishness,  be  deemed 
a  maiden's  triple  crown,  she  had  better  stay  at 
home  till  she  is  old  enough  to  know  evil  when 
she  sees  it,  and,  so  knowing  it,  choose  the  good. 

When  I  first  came  to  California,  the  girls,  with 
few  exceptions,  enjoyed  unrestrained  liberty.  They 
scoffed  at  apron-strings.  They  walked,  and  rode, 
and  drove  alone  with  the  man  of  their  choice.  The 
mothers  always  stayed  at  home.  They  said  proudly 
that  they  could  trust  their  girls.  This  trust  Was 
a  beautiful  thing,  quite  ideal,  but  how  often  was  it 
betrayed !  You  must  ask  the  doctors,  read  the 
records,  and  talk  with  the  young  men  who  take 
the  girls  to  the  picnics  and  dances,  and  when  you 
have  done  all  this  you  can  answer  the  question  for 
yourself. 

In  a  country  town,  you  will  find  the  streets  full 
of  girls.  They  are  sent  alone  on  errands  ;  they  loaf 
about  the  station  and  post-office,  they  walk  arm  in 
arm  up  and  down  the  thoroughfares.  They  ought, 
every  one  of  them,  to  be  at  home  working,  helping 
their  mothers,  who  —  heaven  knows  !  —  want  all 
the  help  they  can  get.  And  yet  these  same  mothers 
admit  that  their  girls  are  a  hindrance  to  them  in 
the  kitchen,  and  the  laundry.  "  Bless  you,"  said 
one  hard-working  farmer's  wife  to  me,  "  my  daughter 
could  n't  cook  a  meal  o'  victuals  to  save  her  life." 
From  her  tone  I  was  left  to  infer  that  this  inca- 
pacity was   greatly  to   the  girl's   credit.      In   the 


The  Children  of  the  West  "j^ 

West  a  stream  is  expected  to  rise  higher  than  its 
source.  A  minute  later  the  mother  murmured,  "  I 
do  wish  that  you  could  hear  Alvira  play  Weber's 
*  Invitation  to  the  Waltz.' " 

Alvira  was  sweet  sixteen,  had  attended  school 
since  she  was  six,  and  what  she  knew  of  practical 
value  could  have  been  put  into  a  grain  of  millet- 
seed. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  boys  are  encouraged  to 
earn  an  honest  penny  as  soon  as  they  are  breeched. 
I  am  speaking  of  the  sons  of  the  poor.  Many  a 
small  boy,  out  of  school  hours,  sells  papers,  peddles 
tamales,  or  does  "chores,"  for  a  neighbour.  The 
money  so  earned  he  spends  on  himself.  This  of 
course  fosters  independence.  The  boy  learns  to 
paddle  his  own  canoe,  to  shoot  the  rapids.  At 
fifteen  he  is  —  so  to  speak  —  a  voyageuvy  a  naviga- 
tor.    The  father  is  a  "  back  number." 

The  conceit  of  the  very  small  boys,  their  bump- 
tiousness and  braggadocio,  always  amaze  the  stranger 
and  foreigner.  I  read  a  story  the  other  day  that 
must  have  been  clipped  from  a  Western  newspaper. 
A  father  leaving  home  had  specially  commended 
the  care  of  the  mother  to  his  small  son,  aged  — 
five.  That  night,  the  urchin  modified  his  evening 
prayer.  He  entreated  the  protection  of  Heaven  on 
behalf  of  the  absent  sire ;  but  he  ended  as  follows  : 
"Dear  God,  don't  bother  about  mamma,  for  I'm 
taking  care  of  her  myself." 

My  own  little  boy,  a  Native  Son  brought  up  in 
California,  was  very  much  excited  at  the  prospect 
of  a  first  visit  to  England.  The  battle  of  Omdur- 
man  had  just  been  fought     "  I  do  hope,"  he  said, 


78      Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slopp 

after  seeing  the  pictures  in  the  "  Illustrated  London 
News,"  "that  the  Queen  will  keep  the  war  in 
Egypt  going  —  for  me." 

Another  day  he  was  listening  attentively  to  the 
story  of  the  Golden  Calf  and  the  Fiery  Serpents. 
"  Well,"  he  remarked,  as  the  Bible  was  closed,  "  they 
were  wicked,  those  Israelites.  No  wonder  God  was 
mad  with  them.    /  don't  blame  him." 

Irreverence  is  a  characteristic  of  the  children  of 
the  West.  This  is  partly  the  fault  of  the  pastors. 
I  remember  a  funeral  sermon  preached  by  a  Presby- 
terian minister  upon  a  dead  child.  The  child's 
play-fellows  were  in  church,  and  attentive  listeners 
to  a  discourse  mainly  biographical.  The  preacher 
concluded  :  "  I  can  see  him  ;  yes,  I  can  see  our  dear 
little  friend ; "  he  looked  upward,  and  the  eyes  of 
the  children  were  immediately  fixed  upon  the  ceiling 
of  the  church.  "  There  he  is,  corralled  in  Heaven^ 
playing  about  with  all  the  other  little  angels." 

This  allusion  to  the  corral,  that  homely  feature 
in  the  Western  landscape,  appealed  forcibly  to  the 
imagination  of  the  children,  but  surely  the  ridicu- 
lous was  too  perilously  near  the  sublime. 

Speaking  of  funerals,  I  recall  another  anecdote 
that  illustrates  this  peculiar  blending  of  the  sacred 
and  the  profane.  In  Southern  California,  funerals 
are,  like  the  Irish  wake,  a  source  of  entertainment 
to  the  many  who  attend  them.  If  the  deceased 
happens  to  have  been  in  his  lifetime  a  member  of 
any  order,  such  as  the  Oddfellows  or  Freemasons,  his 
funeral  becomes  a  public  function,  a  parade.  You 
march  to  the  burial-ground  clad  in  the  uniform  of 


The  Children  of  the  West  79 

your  order;  a  band  furnishes  appropriate  music; 
at  the  grave  certain  rites  are  observed.  But  the 
solemn  procession  to  the  cemetery  is  robbed  of  its 
significance,  by  the  rout  that  follows  the  benedic- 
tion. Peace,  indeed,  is  left  with  the  dead.  The 
living  race  home,  as  if  Death,  with  the  "  tiger-roar  " 
of  his  voice,  were  pursuing  them.  After  one  of  these 
functions  I  encountered  the  chief  mourner  and  mur- 
mured my  condolence.  He  asked  me  in  return  what 
I  thought  of  the  funeral ;  then  he  added,  before  I 
could  answer :  "  It  was  fine.  Every  thing  according 
to  Hoyle.  Well  sir,  she  'd  been  a  good  wife  to  me, 
and  me  and  my  friends  appreciated  that  fact,  and 
so  —  we  gave  her  a  good  send-off !  " 
Children  attend  these  entertainments. 

Talking  with  the  boys  and  girls  of  the  West,  one 
notes  the  bias  of  their  minds  to  what  is  material 
rather  than  ideal.  This  gives  to  each  child  a  certain 
personality  —  he  must  be  reckoned  with  as  an  indi- 
vidual. His  egoism  is  so  plainly  manifested  that 
it  becomes  dominant.  And  this  egoism  of  the 
child  is  pregnant  with  ill-omen  for  the  future  of  the 
race.  What  makes  for  character  —  sense  of  duty, 
reverence,  humility,  obedience  —  is  not  inculcated 
by  the  majority  of  parents  in  the  West.  On  the 
contrary,  they  encourage  the  egoism  latent  in  all 
children,  till  each  becomes  an  autocrat.  I  shall 
never  forget  a  morning  I  passed  in  what  is  called 
the  "  Ladies'  Parlour  "  of  a  steamship.  My  mother 
was  with  me,  prostrated  by  headache  and  sickness, 
and  the  room  was  full  of  fellow  sufferers.  Suddenly 
a   boy  marched  in   playing  —  toy  bagpipes.      The 


8o     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

skirl  of  the  pipes  at  a  distance  has  been  known,  I 
believe,  to  please  some  persons  with  Scotch  blood 
in  their  veins,  but  the  wildest  pibroch  ever  played 
in  Highland  glen  was  sweet  melody  compared  to 
the  strains  produced  by  this  urchin.  The  women 
glared  at  him,  but  he  played  on,  delighted  with 
himself  and  his  toy.  His  mother  was  present,  un- 
protesting.  Presently  he  flung  down  the  pipes, 
walked  to  the  piano,  opened  it,  sat  down,  and  began 
to  hammer  the  keys  with  his  feet.  The  mother 
smiled  fatuously.  I  rose  up  and  approached  the 
child.  "  You  play  very  nicely  with  your  feet,"  I 
ventured  to  say,  as  I  lifted  him  from  the  stool,  "  but 
some  of  these  ladies  are  suffering  with  headache, 
and  your  music  distresses  them.  Eun  away,  like  a 
good  boy,  and  don't  come  back  again." 

The  child  stared  at  me  and  obeyed.  The  mother 
was  furious.  Had  I  been  Herod  the  Great,  red- 
handed  after  the  slaughter  of  the  Innocents,  she 
could  not  have  looked  more  indignant  or  reproach- 
ful. I  was  interfering  with  the  sacred  rights  of  the 
American  child  to  do  what  he  pleased,  where  he 
pleased,  and  when  he  pleased. 

In  the  East  —  I  am  glad  to  say  —  Fashion  has 
ordained  that  the  children  of  the  well-to-do  shall 
be  quietly  dressed,  soft-voiced,  polite,  and  consider- 
ate. They  flaunt  no  absurd  silks  and  satins,  they 
wear  no  jewellery,  they  play  neither  the  piano  nor 
the  fool  —  in  public. 

In  the  West  it  is  otherwise. 

South  of  Point  Concepcion,  the  children  suffer 
from  the  effect  of  a  climate  ill-adapted  to  the  de- 


The  Children  of  the  West  8 1 

velopment  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race.  One  hesitates 
to  use  the  odious  word,  "  decadent "  in  connection 
with  them,  but  no  other  can  be  found.  You  will 
see  many  pretty  faces,  whose  features  lack  strength 
and  balance.  The  lads  are  pallid,  narrow-chested, 
and  rickety;  the  girls,  like  the  roses,  lack  fresh- 
ness and  fragrance.  There  is  an  exotic  quality  about 
them,  a  quality  not  without  a  charm,  a  languorous 
grace  denied  to  the  robuster  children  of  the  North. 
These  are  the  orchids  of  the  Pacific  Slope. 

Their  precocity  is  astounding.  Most  of  them  are 
allowed  to  read  the  public  prints,  and  in  particular 
the  Sunday  editions,  wherein  may  be  found  a  special 
page  devoted  to  the  young,  and  which  the  young 
—  according  to  my  experience  —  seldom  read.  In 
1895  we  were  horrified  by  a  dreadful  double  murder. 
Two  girls  were  decoyed  to  a  church,  and  there  dis- 
honoured and  despatched  by  a  fiend  of  the  name 
of  Durrant.  The  case  furnished  hundreds  of  col- 
umns of  what  is  known  in  editorial  sanctums  as 
"  good  stuff/'  and  for  two  years  these  details  tainted 
the  public  mind  The  very  headlines  were  sufficient 
to  debauch  the  imagination.  To-day,  you  would 
hardly  find  on  the  Pacific  Slope  an  intelligent  boy 
of  fifteen  who  is  not  familiar  with  the  details  of  this 
murder.  Finally,  Dewey  took  the  taste  of  Durrant 
out  of  their  mouths. 

If  the  mental  diet  is  too  stimulating  for  the  chil- 
dren, the  food  they  eat  is  no  less  so.  Some  parents 
gravely  contend  that  the  tissues  of  a  child's  stomach 
may  be  toughened,  like  his  cuticle,  by  abuse.  One 
man  I  know  wakes  up  his  children  in  the  middle  of 
the  night  to  eat  whatever  he  fancies :  Welsh  rarebit, 

6 


82      Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

cold  plum  pudding,  caviare,  or  pickled  clams.  "  I 
like  my  babies  around  me,"  he  observed  tenderly.  I 
feared  that  he  would  n't  have  them  long,  but  he  as- 
sured me  that  they  were  none  the  worse  for  these 
nodes  amhrosiance. 

All  the  children  of  the  poorer  class  eat  too  much 
salt  meat,  and  drink  tea  that  is  little  better  than 
poison.  The  cooking  on  the  ranches  is  inconceiv- 
ably bad.  Soda  and  cheap  baking-powders  take  the 
place  of  honest  yeast ;  steaks  and  chops  are  fried, 
not  broiled,  and  served  sodden  with  grease ;  the  vege- 
tables, particularly  the  peas,  are  tough  and  tasteless  *, 
the  puddings  alone  are  palatable.  As  a  rule,  these 
viands  are  gulped  down  in  a  few  minutes.  The 
children  fill  their  pockets  with  doughnuts  (the 
Western  word  "  sinkers "  is  expressive)  and  scurry 
away  to  their  lessons  and  games.  The  elders  take 
a  dose  of  some  patent  medicine,  and  fondly  believe 
that  they  have  enjoyed  a  square  meal. 

The  amount  of  medicine  sold  on  the  Pacific  Slope 
is  significant  of  either  stupendous  credulity  or  stu- 
pendous ill-health  on  the  part  of  the  people.  And 
the  children  get  more  than  their  share  of  the  drugs. 
The  weakening  of  a  general  belief  in  the  Great 
Physician  has  quickened  faith  in  the  quacks.  If 
Tommy  cuts  his  finger  the  doctor  is  summoned ;  if 
Mamie  coughs,  a  lung  specialist  must  be  consulted ; 
if  the  baby  has  a  pain,  he  must  be  dosed  with  pare- 
goric. In  a  country  where  health  once  reigned 
supreme,  where  doctors  were  unknown,  where  drugs 
were  sold  by  the  grocers,  you  may  hardly  find  to- 
day a  perfectly  healthy  family.     One  child  has  lost 


The  Children  of  the  West  83 

his  "  adnoids,"  another  his  tonsils ;  this  one  goes 
twice  a  week  to  an  aurist ;  an  oculist  has  just  oper- 
ated upon  that ;  a  nose  specialist  Qie  won't  be  long 
without  a  name)  has  the  fifth  under  special  treat- 
ment, and  so  forth. 

And  yet,  despite  the  money  spent  on  them,  de- 
spite the  care  and  anxiety  of  the  parents,  despite 
the  pampering,  despite  the  endearments,  the  children 
of  the  Pacific  Slope  are  emphatically  neglected. 
You  seldom  see  a  father  or  a  mother  patiently 
and  laboriously  teaching  a  child.  The  common 
round  is  distasteful  to  the  people  of  the  West,  the 
trivial  task  is  abhorrent.  The  "  grind  "  of  slowly 
imparting  to  a  child  habits  of  self-control,  obedience, 
and  a  sense  of  duty  is  a  treadmill  that  few  care  to 
mount.  Those  who  can  afford  it  pay  others  to  train 
their  children  for  them,  and  this  training  is,  as  a 
rule,  intermittent  and  ineffective. 

The  religious  training  is  practically  in  the  hands 
of  the  Sunday-school  teachers.  The  more  intelli- 
gent of  these  will  tell  you,  if  you  ask  them,  that 
their  efforts  are  often  futile,  because  at  home  the 
men  of  the  family  habitually  make  light  of  sacred 
things  and  names.  I  remember  one  very  small 
boy  who  astonished  his  mother  one  night  by  sud- 
denly sitting  up  in  bed  and  saying,  **  Well,  I  am 
a  dam  fool ;  I  Ve  forgotten  to  say  my  prayers ! " 
Here  again  is  the  blend  of  sacred  and  profane. 

The  good  qualities  of  the  children  of  the  Pacific 
Slope  are :  originality,  independence,  pluck,  and 
perspicuity.  They  are  extraordinarily  quick-witted 
and  plastic,  full  of  quips  and  odd  turns  of  speech, 


84     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

and  blessed  with  the  strongest  imaginations.  A 
grandmother  gave  me  the  following.  She  had 
explained  very  patiently  the  nature  of  that  respect 
which  is  due  to  age  from  youth.  At  the  end  she 
asked,  "  Do  you  understand  what  I  have  been 
saying  ? " 

"  You  bet  I  do,"  replied  the  grandson  (aged  six). 
"  I  know  that  it  would  n't  do  for  me  call  you  — 
Tom." 

During  a  heavy  rainstorm,  an  urchin  was  seen  by 
his  mother  to  drop  upon  his  knees.  "  Dear  God," 
prayed  the  child,  "  father  says  we  have  had  rain 
enough.     Please  turn  off  the  faucet." 

This  urchin  once  begged  me  to  read  aloud  to  him 
from  the  paper  I  held  in  my  hand.  I  assured  him 
that  what  I  was  perusing  —  the  annual  statement 
of  one  of  the  banks  — would  not  interest  him.  He 
begged  to  contradict  me.  So  I  began :  "  Capital 
Stock.  .  .  $3,000,000." 

He  interrupted  me  at  once.  Stock,  seemingly, 
suggested  dairy  cows,  for  he  said  eagerly :  "  By 
golly,  three  million  dollars !  Would  n't  I  like  to 
own  those  cows,  and  would  n't  I  milk  'em  for  all 
they  were  worth,  and  sell  'em  when  they  went  dry  ? " 

Upon  another  occasion,  he  had  returned  from  a 
visit  to  one  of  the  neighbours'  wives,  whom  he  pro- 
nounced a  perfect  lady.  I  took  exception  to  the 
adjective  and  substantive,  the  person  in  question 
being  a  peasant.  "  Well,"  said  he,  "  she  may  not  be 
a  perfect  lady,  but  she  's  a  very  agreeable  woman." 

Upon  the  deck  of  a  steamer  I  heard  the  fol- 
lowing: A  small  boy  from  the  West  asked  a 
friend   of   mine,  a   striking-looking   man,  who   he 


The  Children  of  the  West  85 

was.     "  I  'm  the  pilot,"  replied  he,  with  a  twinkle 
in  his  eye. 

"  The  pilot,"  repeated  the  urchin,  thoughtfully. 
"  Then  why  ar'n't  you  on  the  bridge  ?  " 

These  imps  criticise  their  elders  and  betters 
freely.  A  tot  said  to  me  quite  gravely  :  "  My  auntie 
is  not  as  smart  as  she  thinks  herself.  And  she 's 
often  very  rude.     She  contradicted  me  this  morning" 

A  snub  — need  it  be  said  —  is  good  powder  wasted 
on  the  Western  youth.  I  remember  a  lad  of  eigh- 
teen who  was  selling  books.  He  went  into  the 
office  of  a  physician  notorious  for  his  crabbed 
temper,  and  submitted  his  wares.  The  medico 
bade  him  be  gone,  in  very  unparliamentary  terms. 

"  Can  you  read  ? "  demanded  the  youth,  blandly. 

"  Eead,  sir  !     I  don't  read  such  books  as  you  sell." 

"  I  sell  Shakespeare,  and  the  Bible.  You  don't 
act  as  if   you  had  read  either.     Good-morning." 

This  same  youth  —  who  surely  will  go  far  —  had 
heard  that  at  a  certain  bank  the  clerks  had  agreed 
to  hustle  any  book  agent  who  invaded  their  prem- 
ises. The  book  agent,  it  must  be  added,  is  regarded 
in  the  West  as  a  beast  of  prey.  Our  young  friend 
took  his  own  line.  Eushing  into  the  bank,  he  ex- 
claimed excitedly,  "  Boys,  have  you  seen  him  ? " 

"  Seen  whom  ?  "   repeated  the  clerks  in  chorus. 

"That  book  agent." 

"  No,  no.  We  want  to  see  him !  We  're  fixed 
for  him.  The  last  fellow  made  us  weary.  We  're 
going  to  skin  the  next  one  alive.     Where  is  he  ? " 

"  He  is  —  here  ! "  said  the  youth  dramatically. 
"  Start  right  in,  boys,  and  enjoy  yourselves.  When 
you  get  through  I  '11  sell  you  some  books." 


86     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

He  sold  his  books. 

If  they  refuse  to  take  a  snub,  they  are  quick  to 
take  a  hint.  There  is  an  authentic  story  of  a  poor 
lad  who  approached  a  famous  millionaire  and  asked 
for  twenty-five  cents  (a  shilling),  wherewith  to  buy 
a  meal. 

"  A  meal  ? "  exclaimed  the  great  man.  "  Why, 
my  boy,  twenty-five  cents  will  buy  you  five  meals 
—  of  bread  and  water.  And  a  healthy  lad  like  you 
can  live  on  two  meals  a  day.  I  've  done  it.  Here  's 
your  quarter." 

The  boy  took  the  coin  and  the  advice.  Years 
after  he  sought  out  the  millionaire  and  thanked 
him. 

Since  I  first  crossed  the  Kocky  Mountains,  an  ex- 
traordinary stimulus  has  been  given  to  all  athletic 
exercises.  In  1882  baseball  was  the  only  game. 
To-day  the  muscles  of  the  youths  are  hardened 
and  expanded  by  football,  polo,  golf,  tennis,  and 
bicycle  riding.  And  yet  the  physiology  of  bodily 
exercise  is  entirely  misapprehended,  even  more  so 
than  it  is  in  England.  In  no  country  do  the  young 
men  "  scorch  "  as  in  the  West.  You  may  see  them 
any  Sunday  upon  the  highways  and  byways.  Their 
faces  are  streaming  with  perspiration ;  their  eyes 
are  popping  from  their  heads;  their  brows  are 
seamed  with  anxiety.  Doubled  up  above  the 
handle-bars  they  always  seem  to  me  the  most  piti- 
ful notes  of  interrogation.  They  are  asking  for 
health  and  strength.     What  are  they  getting? 

I  hold  with  Walt  Whitman  that  "in  man  or 
woman  a  clean,  strong,  firm-fibred   body,  is  more 


The  Children  of  the  West  87 

beautiful  than  the  most  beautiful  face ; "  I  know, 
also,  what  athletics  has  done  for  the  young  men  of 
the  West;  I  am  well  aware  of  the  many  (who 
might  have  been  drunkards  and  debauchees)  whom 
a  love  of  manly  sport  has  reclaimed  and  regener- 
ated. But  I  cannot  blind  myself  to  the  fact  that 
in  this,  as  in  other  matters,  the  pendulum  has 
swung  too  far  the  other  way.  The  strenuous  com- 
petition that  stalks  in  the  market-place  rages  furi- 
ously in  the  playing-fields,  too  furiously  for  the 
weal  of  the  athletes.  In  their  play,  as  in  their 
work,  would  it  not  be  wise  for  the  Sons  of  the 
West  to  give  pause? 


V 

RANCH  LIFE  — I 


V 

KANCH   LIFE—  I 

OUTSIDERS  look  at  ranch  life  through  rose- 
coloured  spectacles.  The  word  "  ranch  "  has 
peculiar  charm:  it  sounds  more  pastoral,  more 
alluring  than  "farm."  A  farm  suggests  hedges, 
fences,  stone  walls.  Of  necessity,  life  on  a  farm 
would  seem  to  be  life  within  bounds,  circumscribed 
by  convention,  lacking  the  freedom  and  freshness 
of  the  ranch.  A  ranch  implies  ampler  pastures, 
purer  air,  the  essence  of  Arcadian  things. 

In  the  West  the  word  is  linked  indiscriminately 
to  a  score  of  industries.  We  have  cattle-,  horse-, 
hog-,  fruit-,  berry-,  chicken-,  and  even  bee-ranches. 
According  to  your  inclination,  according  to  the 
amount  of  capital  at  your  disposal,  you  may  choose 
any  one  of  these ;  but  remember,  you  will  infallibly 
fail  —  losing  money,  time,  and  probably  health  — 
unless  you  give  to  your  ranch  undivided  energies, 
unwearied  patience,  a  fair  measure  of  brains,  and  a 
leaven  of  common-sense. 

The  writers  who  have  described  ranch-life  as 
easy  and  leisurely,  a  refuge  for  men  who  have 
broken  down  in  the  professions  or  in  business,  have 
—  consciously  or  unconsciously  —  lied. 

On  a  cattle-ranch,  you  will  be  sensible  of  its 
remoteness.     You  are  far   from  railroad  and  post- 


92     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

office.  Once  a  week,  perhaps,  you  get  papers  and 
letters ;  once  a  week  you  see  a  fresh  face,  hear  the 
tones  of  a  fresh  voice.  The  world  wags  on,  but 
you  are  out  of  it.  To  some  this  isolation  is  intoler- 
able; to  others,  doubtless,  it  brings  comfort  and 
content.  The  life  grows  upon  one.  You  rise  early, 
feed  your  horse  and  yourself,  and  ride  forth  into 
the  hills.  After  a  time  you  begin  to  know  your 
cattle ;  you  can  see  them,  distinguish  one  from  an- 
other at  a  distance  that  surprises  the  tenderfoot. 
If  one  is  missing  you  are  aware  instinctively  of 
the  fact,  and  glance  skyward.  A  buzzard  circling 
slowly  on  motionless  pinions  advises  you  that  the 
beast  is  dead,  or  dying.  Perhaps  he  has  mired 
down  in  some  rotten  ground,  or  is  cast  in  a  gulch, 
or  stolen.  It  is  the  business  of  your  life  to  know 
where  the  cattle  are,  and  what  may  be  their 
condition.  At  certain  seasons  the  calves  must  be 
branded ;  the  beef  cattle  must  be  cut  out,  as  the 
phrase  runs,  the  estrays  must  be  given  to  their 
lawful  owners.  These  rodeos  are  the  high  days, 
not  the  holidays,  of  ranch  life.  From  the  neigh- 
bouring ranches  ride  the  cowboys,  and  in  the  corrals 
you  will  see  them  at  work  with  the  lasso  and 
branding-iron.  Time  was  when  cattle  were  roughly 
handled.  They  came  streaming  across  the  hills, 
the  vaqueros  shouting  behind  them  and  whirling 
their  reatas.  Now  quieter  methods  prevail.  The 
foreman  instructs  his  men  to  drive  the  beasts 
slowly,  not  to  shout,  not  to  swing  the  reata.  He 
wants  his  cattle  tame.  Even  in  the  corral  the 
lasso  is  less  used  than  formerly,  and  the  skill  of 
the  vaqueros  is  passing  for  lack  of  practice.     Some 


Ranch  Life  93 

of  the  "greasers,"  however,  can  still  fling  a  rope 
with  such  exquisite  art  that  the  loop  seems  to  be 
guided  by  an  invisible  hand  to  the  horn  or  hoof 
it  is  destined  to  encircle  ;  they  can  vault  on,  and 
off,  and  over,  a  horse  at  full  gallop,  or  snatch  a  coin 
from  the  ground  as  they  race  by  —  swinging  far 
out  of  their  big  saddles  and  into  them  again  with 
extraordinary  grace  and  agility ;  they  can  "  tail " 
a  bull ;  they  can  "  tie  up  "  and  untie  a  wild  Texan 
steer,  single-handed ;  and  they  can  break  and  ride 
anything  that  goes  on  all-fours.  In  the  days  be- 
fore the  American  occupation  of  the  Pacific  Slope 
the  mastery  of  such  feats  was  part,  the  larger  part, 
of  a  cahallero's  education,  and  the  vaquero  was  held 
in  high  esteem.  To-day,  poor  fellow,  his  occupa- 
tion is  almost  gone. 

There  is  plenty  of  work  to  be  done  on  a  big  cattle- 
ranch:  fences  must  be  built  and  repaired;  water 
troughs  —  where  there  are  no  streams  —  must  be 
filled  ;  the  hay-land  must  be  sown  to  barley,  and 
the  crop  harvested.  You  eat  the  plainest  and  most 
unpalatable  fare,  —  bacon  and  beans,  for  the  most 
part,  with  canned  vegetables  and  dried  apples  and 
apricots.  You  sleep  in  the  hardest  of  bunks,  be- 
tween rough  blankets.  You  wear  canvas  overalls. 
You  smoke  coarse  tobacco.  But  you  are  strong 
and  well.  That  is  the  reason  why  so  many  men, 
who  would  seem  to  be  ill-equipped  for  a  rough  life, 
deliberately  chose  it  in  preference  to  any  other. 

As  a  rule,  the  cowboys  spend  what  they  earn  in 
drink,  the  most  fiery  whisky  they  can  find  —  the 
brand   known   as  "  Sheepherder's  delight."      After 


94     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

leading  a  sober  and  temperate  life  for  perhaps  two 
months  they  will  ride  into  the  nearest  town,  and 
proceed  to  paint  it  a  beautiful  blood-red.  As  long 
as  the  money  lasts,  all  comers  are  invited  to  drink. 
When  the  last  cent  is  spent  the  cowboy  mounts  his 
bronco  and  returns  to  the  ranch,  where,  you  may 
be  sure,  no  indiscreet  questions  are  asked.  In  the 
'80's,  when  southern  California  was  still  a  pastoral 
country,  these  roysterers  were  anathema  maranatha 
to  the  townsmen,  despite  the  money  they  put  into 
active  circulation.  You  may  see  tliem  to-day  jog- 
ging into  town,  astride  their  wiry,  fiddle-headed  geld- 
ings (your  true  vaquero  never  rides  a  mare),  clad 
in  chappareros  (long,  loose  leggins  made  of  stout 
leather,  designed  to  protect  the  legs  in  riding 
through  the  tough  manzanita  and  chaparral),  and 
wearing  big  stiff  sombreros  tied  under  the  chin  by 
a  piece  of  black  ribbon.  The  dandies  are  distin- 
guished by  a  fine  silk  neckerchief,  loosely  knotted, 
by  the  high-heeled  boots  (the  high  heels  prevent 
the  foot  from  slipping  through  the  large  wooden 
stirrups),  by  the  silver  mountings  of  the  Mexican 
bit,  by  the  rawhide  bridle  and  cuerda,  by  the  long 
buck-skin  gloves.  Those  who  wear  canvas  overalls 
instead  of  "  chaps "  will  be  careful  to  turn  up  the 
ends  of  them,  so  as  to  display  the  black  trouser 
beneath,  and  when  they  dismount  and  lounge 
through  the  streets,  you  will  mark  an  easy  swagger, 
the  cachet  of  the  caballero. 

Drunk,  they  are  dangerous ;  sober,  most  capital 
fellows,  —  cheery,  kindly,  without  fear,  hard  as  nails, 
and  generous  to  a  fault.  From  such  men  Roose- 
velt recruited  his  famous  Rough  Riders,  and  they 


Ranch  Life  95 

make  the  finest  irregular  cavalry  in  the  world ;  but 
they  are  and  always  will  be  —  Ishmaelites.  They 
are  profoundly  ignorant  of  everything  outside  their 
own  calling,  and  always  laugh  disdainfully  at  a 
tenderfoot's  blunders.  It  is  best  to  laugh  with 
them,  but  sometimes  the  tables  are  turned.  I  know 
a  man,  now  famous,  who  once  silenced  a  camp  full 
of  cowboys.  He  had  made  some  trivial  blunder  — 
I  forget  what  —  which  provoked  the  jeers  of  the 
"  boys."  "  My  God !  '*  he  exclaimed,  "  is  it  possible 
that  you  fellows,  born  and  bred  in  this  cow  coun- 
try, laugh  at  me  ?  Look  here,  I  have  been  twice 
round  the  world,  I  speak  half  a  dozen  languages,  I 
have  lived,  lived,  mark  you,  in  half  the  States  of  your 
Union,  I  have  met  your  famous  men ;  and  you,  you 
dare  to  laugh  at  me  because  I  do  not  know  the  one 
little  thing  which  you  know.  Well,  laugh  away, 
boys.  What  I  don't  know  about  cow-punching  is 
worth  a  laugh,  but  what  you  don't  know  about 
everything  else  in  the  world  is  enough  to  make  a 
man  cry." 

I  have  found  a  warm  welcome  in  dozens  of  cow- 
boys' camps  and  never,  but  once,  anything  else.  On 
that  occasion  my  brother  and  I  were  the  unpremedi- 
tated cause  of  the  "  trouble."  We  had  been  camp- 
ing out  in  the  mountains,  and  had  with  us  in  our 
spring-waggon  a  small  demijohn  of  whisky.  This 
demijohn  we  carefully  hid,  at  the  special  request  of 
the  foreman  of  the  ranch,  but  the  cook,  who  had 
not  been  to  town  for  many  moons,  found  it  and  an- 
nexed it  as  treasure-trove.  It  seems  that  this  cook 
had  had  "  words "  that  morning  with  the  "  boss," 
and  our  whisky,  in  large  undiluted  doses,  fanned 


96     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

into  flame  resentment  that  otherwise  might  have 
smouldered  harmlessly  till  it  burned  out.  As  we 
were  sitting  together  after  supper,  spinning  yarns 
and  smoking,  the  cook  suddenly  marched  into  the 
room,  and  bade  the  boss  and  the  other  cowboys  be 
gone  into  the  hills,  or  where  they  pleased,  but  off 
the  ranch.  He  carried  my  Winchester  rifle  in  his 
hand,  and  as  he  spoke  covered  our  group,  which  dis- 
persed like  a  bevy  of  quail  when  a  hawk  circles 
overhead.  In  a  jiffy,  none  was  left  in  that  room 
save  the  coOk,  my  brother,  and  I.  I  cannot  explain 
why  we  stayed,  but  we  had  received  no  orders  to  go, 
and  we  knew  of  course  that  the  cook  had  no  grudge 
against  us.  Then  followed  a  scene,  ludicrous  enough 
now,  but  not  so  funny  at  the  time.  The  cook  para- 
ded up  and  down  the  room,  assuring  us  that  he 
was  the  King.  To  emphasise  his  claims,  I  remem- 
ber, he  fired  into  the  ceiling  two  royal  salutes,  and 
just  then  —  it  being  moonlight  outside  —  I  saw  a 
dark  figure,  pistol  in  hand,  flit  past  the  open  door. 
There  were  two  doors  in  the  room  exactly  opposite 
to  each  other.  At  the  same  time  I  saw  another 
figure,  similarly  armed,  at  the  other  door.  The 
King,  apprehending  danger,  brought  his  rifle  to  his 
shoulder,  pointing  it  first  to  the  right  and  then  to 
the  left,  according  as  the  heads  appeared  and  dis- 
appeared. Meantime  he  waxed  grimly  facetious, 
entreating  the  gentlemen  outside  to  come  in,  or  at 
least  to  stand  still,  and  so  forth.  The  comic  side  of 
it  did  not  strike  me  till  afterwards,  because  I  was 
wondering  whether  it  would  not  be  expedient  to  lie 
down  upon  the  floor,  out  of  the  line  of  fire,  a  posi- 
tion  commended  by   all   tacticians   of    the   West. 


Ranch  Life  97 

However,  I  was  sensible  that  the  men  outside  were 
not  going  to  shoot  first,  so  I  sat  still  and  waited. 
Suddenly  the  King's  mood  changed.  He  called  to 
one  of  the  men  outside,  the  brother  of  the  foreman : 
"  Say,  Charlie,  —  I  'm  cold.  Bring  me  my  coat ;  it 
hangs  in  the  kitchen." 

Now  drunken  men  are  sometimes  as  subtle  as  the 
serpent,  and  I  decided  that  if  I  were  Charlie,  I 
should  remain  outside,  and  not  play  the  valet,  even 
to  a  king.  Charlie,  it  seems,  was  not  of  my  opinion, 
for  he  said  quite  naturally :  "  That 's  all  right :  1 11 
get  your  coat."  And  in  less  than  a  minute  he  was 
standing  in  the  open  door  with  the  coat  in  his  hand. 
It  was  a  plucky  thing  to  do.  The  King  eyed  Charlie, 
and  Charlie  eyed  the  King.  There  was  a  light  in 
Charlie's  keen  grey  eyes  that  was  not  to  be  mistaken 
by  a  sober  man. 

"  Give  it  to  me,"  commanded  the  King. 

Charlie  held  out  the  coat.  The  King,  with  an 
eye  cocked  at  the  door  opposite,  advanced  to  take  it. 

"  No  funny  business,"  growled  his  Majesty.  "  If 
your  brother  sticks  his  ugly  head  into  that  door,  I  '11 
shoot  you  deader  'n  mutton." 

Charlie  —  as  it  proved  afterward  —  had  persuaded 
the  others  not  to  interfere.  He  wanted  to  play  "  a 
lone  hand."  As  the  King  put  forth  an  arm  for  his 
coat,  the  other  jumped  like  a  cat  at  the  rifle  —  and 
we  jumped  too,  and  everybody  else  jumped,  till 
there  was  a  big  heap  of  men  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor,  and  at  the  bottom  of  the  heap  the  King. 
Presently  we  disentangled  ourselves,  and  nobody 
was  left  on  the  floor  save  he  who  was  no  longer 
King,  and  the  boss. 

7 


98      Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

"  You  are  king,  are  you  ? "  said  the  Boss.  "  Take 
that!" 

He  had  the  monarch  by  the  ears,  and  at  "  that " 
he  raised  the  royal  head,  and  pounded  the  floor  with 
it,  till  the  foreman  entreated  him  to  stop,  for  the 
flooring,  he  said,  was  rotten.  Then  the  ex-King  was 
handcuffed,  and  securely  tied  to  a  bed.  Next  day, 
the  boss  and  the  foreman  led  him  to  the  ranch 
fence,  and  explained  to  him  that  if  he  had  any  con- 
sideration for  his  own  health,  he  must  never,  never, 
never  come  back  again.  And  I  am  quite  sure  he 
never  did. 

I  can  tell  another  story  that  ends  less  happily, 
and  which  illustrates  a  peculiar  phase  of  ranch  life. 
Around  nearly  all  the  old  Spanish  grants,  the 
ranches  proper  of  Southern  California,  lies  Govern- 
ment land,  valued  by  Uncle  Sam  at  one  dollar  and 
a  quarter  an  acre.  A  great  deal  of  this  land  is 
worthless  save  for  grazing  purposes,  and  it  often 
happens  that  the  possession  of  a  fine  spring  or  a 
small  creek  gives  the  owner  undisputed  title  to 
many  hundreds  of  acres  not  worth  taking  up  on 
account  of  a  scarcity  of  water.  But  when  it  was 
proved  that  some  of  these  hitherto  neglected  lands 
were  the  natural  home  of  certain  grapes  and  fruits, 
men  were  eager  to  file  homesteads  —  as  the  phrase 
runs  —  upon  them,  and  the  squatters  who  had  had 
the  use  of  them  for  many  years  naturally  felt 
aggrieved.  In  some  cases  they  had  fenced  in 
these  hills,  to  which  they  had  no  legal  title  what- 
ever. Not  far  from  us  was  an  old  squatter  who 
had  grown  rich  upon  Uncle  Sam's  lands.  He  had, 
I  think,  some  three  hundred  and  twenty  acres  of 


Ranch  Life  99 

his  own,  well-watered,  and  his  stock  roamed  over 
a  couple  of  leagues  of  rolling  hills.  One  day  a 
man  and  his  wife  filed  their  claim  to  a  quarter 
section  (160  acres)  of  these  hills,  and  began  to 
build  a  cabin.  The  first  squatter  protested  and 
blasphemed  —  in  vain.  Finally,  he  and  his  son 
and  a  nephew  deliberately  stalked  the  stranger, 
and  shot  him  dead  on  his  own  land ;  they  also 
shot  and  wounded  the  wife,  who  dragged  herself 
several  miles  to  a  neighbour,  and  recited  the  facts. 
Within  twenty-four  hours  the  murderers  were 
locked  up  in  the  village  "calaboose,"  and  during 
the  following  night  they  were  taken  out  and 
lynched.  The  Vigilantes  hanged  them  from  a 
bridge  not  a  mile  from  our  ranch-house,  and  some 
children,  crossing  the  bridge  on  the  road  to  school, 
found  the  bodies  stiff  and  stark  at  the  end  of  two 
stout  ropes.  A  rope  had  been  provided  for  the 
nephew ;  but  at  the  last  moment,  as  he  stood  shiv- 
ering upon  the  ragged  edge  of  eternity,  he  was 
released  and  commanded  to  leave  the  county  for 
ever.  He  needed,  I  have  been  told,  no  urging. 
This  case  has  a  certain  interest,  because  the  old 
man,  it  appeared,  had  not  fired  a  single  shot ;  but 
it  was  equally  certain  that  he,  and  he  alone,  had 
planned  the  affair.  Further,  he  was  rich,  and  the 
people  in  our  county  were  only  too  well  aware 
that  in  California  it  is  easier  for  a  camel  to  pass 
through  the  eye  of  a  needle  than  for  a  rich  man 
to  be  convicted  of  murder  in  the  first  degree  and 
executed.  Accordingly,  they  very  properly  hanged 
an  old  scoundrel  who  otherwise  would  have  escaped 
almost  scot-free. 


loo    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

Many  persons  supposed  that  my  brother  and  I 
were  amongst  the  Vigilantes.  We  were  not.  We 
knew  absolutely  nothing  of  what  was  going  on,  so 
to  speak,  under  our  noses,  till  the  next  morning. 
What  knowledge  came  to  us  after  the  event  we 
discreetly  kept  to  ourselves.  One  young  fellow, 
I  remember,  a  druggist,  imprudently  hinted  that 
he  could  tell  a  strange  story  if  he  pleased,  and  it 
seems  that  towards  midnight  he  had  been  wakened 
out  of  his  sleep  by  the  Vigilantes  passing  his  drug- 
store on  their  way  to  the  calaboose  which  adjoined 
it.  It  was  said  that  the  young  man  looked  out 
into  the  night  and  saw  a  dozen  masked  men,  that 
he  heard  the  dialogue  that  ensued  between  the 
leader  of  the  Vigilantes  and  the  constable  on  guard, 
that  he  followed  the  party  to  the  bridge  (a  most 
unwise  proceeding),  and  witnessed  the  lynching. 
For  a  brief  season  this  youth  was  the  hero  of  the 
hour;  then  a  quiet,  middle-aged  citizen,  a  man 
with  a  square  brow  and  chin,  and  a  pair  of  keen 
blue  eyes,  was  seen  to  enter  the  drug-store,  and  — 
mirahile  dictu  !  —  after  this  the  mind  and  memory 
of  Peeping  Tom  became  a  blank.  He  had  seen  — 
nothing;  he  had  heard  —  nothing;  he  knew  — 
nothing.  But  observant  persons  remarked  that 
this  young  gentleman's  face,  normally  as  ruddy  as 
David's,  had  turned  of  a  sudden  a  dirty  grey-green ; 
so  we  may  infer  that  the  quiet,  middle-aged  citizen 
did  not  call  upon  his  fellow-townsman  to  pass  the 
time  of  day,  or  to  buy  drugs. 

According  to  the  gentlemen  who  write  with  ease 
upon  any  subject  within  or  without  their  ken,  the 
West  is  now  tame.     My  own  experience  is  this: 


Ranch  Life  i  oi  ■ 

a  man  in  search  of  what  is  technically  called 
"trouble"  can  find  it  on  the  racific  Slop€  Very 
quickly ;  the  man  who  minds  his  own  business  and 
keeps  a  civil  tongue  in  his  head  is  as  safe  in  the 
wildest  parts  of  the  West  as  he  would  be  in  Lon- 
don —  perhaps  safer.  Looking  back,  I  can  recall 
many  deeds  of  violence :  men  stabbed  or  shot  in 
drunken  brawls,  stage-coaches  "  held  up  "  and  robbed, 
trains  stopped  and  looted,  banks  sacked,  and  so  forth, 
not  to  mention  the  horse  and  cattle  thieves  who 
used  to  infest  our  part  of  Southern  California.  But 
to-day,  you  will  find  few  desperadoes,  and  those  few, 
like  the  rattlesnakes,  live  in  the  brush  hills  far  from 
telephone  and  telegraph.  In  the  *80*s  it  was  not 
uncommon  to  meet  the  knights  of  the  road  at 
the  taverns  and  saloons  just  outside  the  towns. 
In  our  county,  during  my  time,  the  infamous 
Dalton  gang  of  train-robbers  owned  a  small  ranch 
not  far  from  ours.  The  notorious  Black  Bart  has 
been  pointed  out  to  me.  This  gentleman  always 
worked  alone.  Wearing  a  long  black  mask,  he 
would  not  hesitate  to  "hold  up"  a  stage-coach. 
When  he  had  robbed  the  passengers,  whom,  he 
paraded  in  line,  he  would  politely  request  them 
to  remount  and  be  gone.  Then  he  would  pin  to 
the  trunk  of  a  neighbouring  tree  a  copy  of  verses, 
commemorating  the  event  in  quaint  English,  and 
signed  by  himself.  I  was  given  to  understand  that 
Black  Bart  was  even  prouder  of  his  "  poetry  "  than 
of  his  exploits  as  highwayman. 

But  even  to-day,  young  Englishmen  settling  upon 
cattle  ranches  on  the  Pacific  Slope  would  do  well 
to   mind   what   company  they  keep.     I  remember 


I02    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

one^poAr  fellow,  the  son  of  a  parson,  who  came 
to  lis  many  years  ago.  He  arrived  with  an  amaz- 
ing kit.  Pistols  and  knives  lay  meekly  by  the 
side  of  manuals  of  devotion.  He  was  armed  cap-^- 
pie  against  the  assaults  of  the  world,  the  flesh,  and 
the  Devil.  My  brother  and  I  looked  at  these 
weapons  and  advised  the  owner  of  them  to  keep 
them,  where  they  were,  at  the  bottom  of  a  port- 
manteau. But  he  objected  to  this,  being  the  son 
of  a  man  who  belonged  to  a  church  militant.  Then 
we  explained  to  him  that  a  fight  in  California  was  a 
very  different  affair  to  a  row  with  an  English  rough. 
It  is,  in  fine,  a  combat  k  outrance.  At  the  time  I 
am  writing  of,  if  one  man  struck  another,  the  blow 
or  slap  was  regarded  generally  as  a  deadly  insult, 
only  to  be  wiped  out  with  blood.  The  man  who 
was  struck  drew  his  pistol,  if  he  carried  one,  and 
fired  instantly.  If  he  had  no  pistol  or  knife  on  his 
person,  he  went  in  search  of  these  weapons,  and, 
further,  deemed  it  no  shame  to  lie  in  wait  for  his 
antagonist,  and  to  shoot  him  down  like  a  dog  when 
he  came  within  range.  If  you  care  to  consult  the 
records,  you  will  find  dozens  of  cases  of  what 
people  in  Europe  would  pronounce  cold-blooded 
murder,  in  which  the  murderer  has  not  only  been 
suffered  to  remain  at  large,  but  has  won  for  him- 
self the  respect  and  esteem  of  the  community  whose 
unwritten  law  he  has  vindicated.  "  It  don't  pay  to 
fool  with  that  feller,"  is  the  popular  verdict;  "he 
is  too  quick  with  his  gun."  In  such  cases  it  is 
disgraceful  to  sustain  defeat.  I  knew  an  Irishman 
whose  daughter  had  married  a  crack-brained  fellow, 
the  terror  of  our  district     Finally,  this  Greek  met 


Ranch  Life  103 

another  Greek,  who  dropped  him  dead  in  his  tracks. 
Shortly  afterwards,  I  was  passing  the  Irishman's 
house,  and  marked  a  red-headed  urchin  playing 
on  the  porch.  In  reply  to  my  question :  "  Whose 
boy  is  that  ? "  the  Irishman  murmured  mysteriously : 
"Sorr  —  'tis  me  daughter's  husband's  chi-i-ild." 
The  name  of  the  vanquished  and  the  dead  was 
too  inglorious  to  be  mentioned. 

The  parson's  son  listened  attentively  to  what  we 
said,  but  he  remarked  in  conclusion  :  "  Of  course  T 
shall  be  careful,  but  — "  He  never  finished  the 
sentence ;  we  inferred  from  the  tone  that  his 
father's  son  did  n't  want  to  fight,  hut  —  /  Not  long 
after  he  struck  a  man,  a  foul-mouthed,  drunken 
blackguard.  Before  the  parson's  son  knew  what 
had  happened,  he  was  stabbed,  and  he  died  a  few 
hours  later.  The  man  was  arrested,  tried  by  a  jury 
of  his  peers,  and  acquitted  ! 


VI 

RANCH  LIFE  — II 


VI 

RANCH  LIFE  — II 

ON  our  ranch,  we  wore  canvas  overalls.  My 
brother  used  to  say  that  the  unfastening  of 
a  large  safety  pin  left  him  in  condition  for  a  plunge 
into  the  pool  at  the  bottom  of  our  corral.  Yet  on 
Christmas  Day  (and  also  upon  the  Queen's  first 
Jubilee)  we  solemnly  arrayed  ourselves  in  dress 
things  and  dined  ^  la  mode. 

We  had  many  pets.  One  —  a  goat  —  gave  us  a 
deal  of  trouble.  He  was  a  remarkable  beast,  with 
a  cultivated  taste  for  sheet  music,  and  he  could 
swallow,  whole,  Sunday  editions  of  San  Franciscan 
newspapers:  a  feat  never  accomplished  by  mortal 
man.  If  anything  was  missing  on  the  ranch,  such 
as  a  monkey-wrench,  or  a  button-hook,  or  a  packet 
of  tobacco,  we  always  knew  where  it  was  —  inside 
the  goat.  Finally  he  took  to  roosting  on  the  piano, 
for  neither  bars  nor  bolts  kept  him  out  of  our 
sitting-room  ;  and  he  had  a  playful  habit  of  ap- 
proaching you  very  quietly  from  behind  and  then 
—  Bif!  We  loved  that  goat,  but  the  time  came 
when  we  had  to  choose  between  him  and  our  Lares 
and  Penates.  It  was  no  use  giving  him  away, 
because  he  refused  to  be  a  party  to  the  transaction, 
and  always  came  back  more  wicked  than  before- 
Our  Chinaman  said  he  was  a  devil.  So  he  was 
condemned  to  death,  and  three  of  us  drew  lots  to 


io8    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

decide  who  should  be  the  executioner.  I  shall  not 
reveal  upon  whom  that  lot  fell,  but  the  man  who 
slew  the  goat  has  never  been  quite  the  same  since. 
He  carries  the  brand  of  Gain. 

We  had  also  a  tame  pig  that  answered  to  the 
name  of  Dolly.  Dolly  was  a  thoroughbred  Poland- 
China,  and  she  used  to  follow  me  about  like  a  dog 
and  eat  out  of  my  hand.  Dolly  became  enormously 
fat,  and  after  a  time  refused  positively  to  budge 
from  the  kitchen  door,  transferring  her  affections, 
after  the  manner  of  her  sex,  from  her  lawful  lord 
and  master  to  another,  the  cook,  who  wooed  her 
wantonly  with  wash.  Dolly  was  eaten;  and  we 
have  never  dared  since  then  to  speak  disparagingly 
of  cannibals.  We  had  also  a  parrot  that  was  pos- 
sessed not  of  one  but  of  a  dozen  devils.  Some 
parrots  attain  a  great  age,  but  this  bird  died  young 
—  I  am  glad  to  say.  Of  course  we  tamed  many 
colts :  a  grave  mistake  unless  you  intend  them  for 
a  circus.  It  is  easy  to  teach  a  horse  to  shake 
hands,  and  waggle  his  head,  and  stand  on  a  tub, 
and  lie  down ;  but  you  cannot  teach  him  a  sense 
of  the  fitness  of  things.  I  remember  a  black  whom 
1  used  to  drive  as  leader  of  a  pony  tandem.  He 
was  on  such  intimate  terms  with  me  that  he 
never  questioned  his  right  to  do  as  he  pleased. 
This  perfidious  wretch  would  not  only  stop  when 
he  came  to  a  hill,  but  also  lie  down,  flat  on  his 
back  with  all  four  legs  in  the  air,  —  a  disgraceful 
object 

Speaking  of  horses  reminds  me  of  an  incident. 
Some  neighbours  and  friends  of  ours  had  a  horse 
called   Alcalde.     Alcalde   was   a  most  respectable 


■$■:■■■ 


Ranch  Life  109 

person,  but  like  all  of  us  he  had  his  failing:  he 
would  flick  his  tail  over  the  reins.  Now  it  hap- 
pened that  my  friend  was  of  a  nautical  turn,  and 
in  his  youth  he  had  learned  the  art  of  tying 
wonderful  knots.  Accordingly,  one  day,  when  he 
was  about  to  take  his  wife  for  a  drive,  he  tied  down 
Alcalde's  tail  so  tightly  and  so  securely  that  not  a 
wiggle  was  left  in  it.  Now  it  happened  that  only 
that  morning  my  friend's  wife  had  turned  on  the 
water,  —  water,  you  must  understand,  is  very  pre- 
cious on  a  ranch  in  Southern  California,  —  and,  alas  ! 
she  had  neglected  to  turn  it  off,  being  distracted 
possibly  by  household  cares;  so  the  water  had 
flowed  away,  leaving  the  family  tank  empty  and 
cracking  beneath  the  ardent  rays  of  the  sun.  Con- 
ceive if  you  can  the  wrath  of  a  husband  condemned 
by  a  wife's  carelessness  to  pump  many  hundreds 
of  gallons  of  water !  You  may  be  sure  that  he  (he 
was  an  Englishman)  told  his  unhappy  wife  she  had 
committed  the  unpardonable  sin,  and  she,  poor  soul, 
apprehending  the  magnitude  of  her  offence,  held 
her  peace  (which  is  remarkable,  because  she  was  a 
daughter  of  the  West).  Perhaps  —  you  may  draw 
your  own  conclusions  —  the  husband  was  sorry 
that  he  had  spoken  so  harshly,  and  thought  that  a 
drive  behind  a  fast-trotting  horse  would  establish 
happier  relations  between  two  who  should  be  one. 
Be  that  as  it  may,  after  the  drive  was  over,  he  be- 
gan to  unharness  Alcalde,  his  wife  standing  by  and 
talking  to  him.  The  traces  were  unhooked,  the 
breeching  straps  unbuckled,  and  then  Alcalde  was 
commanded  to  leave  the  shafts.  But  Alcalde,  wise 
as  Balaam's  ass,  never  stirred,  for  he  knew  that  his 


1 1  o    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

tail  was  still  fast  to  the  buggy.  Thereupon  my 
friend  took  the  whip  and  applied  it  smartly  to 
Alcalde's  quarters.  Alcalde,  who  had  doubtless 
been  nursing  his  wrongs  throughout  that  afternoon, 
and  who  now  was  given  an  opportunity,  as  the 
lawyers  say,  to  show  cause,  retaliated  by  kicking 
the  buggy  into  a  heap  of  kindling  wood.  My 
friend's  wife  watched  this  performance  with  interest, 
and  when  it  was  over  she  turned  to  her  husband 
and  said  quietly  :  "  My  dear,  after  this,  I  shall  turn 
on  the  water  and  let  it  run  as  often  and  as  long  as 
I  please." 

Of  the  hired  men  and  girls  who  honoured  us  by 
working  for  wages  which  an  English  curate  would 
not  despise,  I  could  write  currente  calamOy  but  I  dare 
not  do  it,  for  I  feel  like  the  stout  gentleman  who* 
remained  in  the  plains,  because  he  was  sensible 
that  in  the  hills  he  might  begin  to  roll,  and  go  on 
rolling,  till  he  rolled  out  of  the  world  altogether. 
I  have  so  much  material  that  I  dare  not  cut  the 
wire  which  holds  the  bale  together.  One  or  two 
stories,  however,  may  be  pulled  out,  without  dis- 
turbing the  rest.  We  employed  a  man  who  in  his 
youth  had  had  an  encounter  with  a  circular  saw. 
The  saw,  in  such  cases,  generally  has  the  best  of  it ; 
and  on  this  occasion  two  of  our  hired  man's  fingers 
were  left  in  the  pit.  Upon  one  of  the  remaining 
fingers  he  wore  a  diamond  ring!  And  he  actually 
told  me  that  his  hand  "  kind  o'  needed  settin'  off." 
It  never  seemed  to  strike  the  poor  fellow  that  the 
proper  place  for  that  maimed  hand  was  his  pocket. 
He  used  to  wave  it  about  —  so  my  brother  said  — 
as  if  it  were  a  Pampas  plume. 


Ranch  Life  1 1 1 

Another  anecdote  illustrates  that  amazing  lack 
of  a  sense  of  proportion  which  characterises  the 
people  of  the  West.  We  had  a  girl,  as  cook,  who 
was  always  leaving  us  to  assist  at  the  funerals  of 
her  relations.  These  died  one  after  the  other. 
Finally  the  mother  died,  and  the  girl  asked  for  a 
week's  leave.  At  the  end  of  the  week  I  drove  up 
to  her  father's  house  to  fetch  Jane,  and  he  (the 
father)  came  out  to  speak  to  me.  Naturally  I 
murmured  a  few  words  of  condolence. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  mournfully,  "  poor  Jane,  poor 
girl,  she  has  had  bad  luck,"  he  seemed  to  ignore 
his  share  in  it ;  "  she  's  lost  in  one  year,"  he  began 
to  reckon  on  his  fingers,  "  yes,  —  Tom,  Mamie,  her 
uncle  Charlie,  her  mother,  and  to-day,  this  very 
morning,  she  has  lost  Dick." 

"  Good  heavens ! "  I  exclaimed,  confounded  by 
such  unparalleled  misfortunes.  "  You  have  lost 
Dick !  Let  me  see,  he  was  your  youngest  boy, 
wasn't  he?" 

"  No,"  said  the  man,  gravely,  "  Dick  was  poor 
Jane's  canary  bird.  She.  thought  the  world  of  it. 
And  it  died  this  morning.     Too  bad,  —  ain't  it  ?  " 

Max  O'Eell,  in  one  of  his  lectures,  pointed  out 
the  radical  difference  between  the  French  servant, 
Marie  Jeanne,  and  the  English  Mary  Jane.  "  Marie 
Jeanne,"  he  would  say,  "  puts  her  wages  into  a 
stocking  and  puts  that  stocking  into  a  hole  in  the 
ground;  Mary  Jane  puts  her  wages  into  a  new 
hat,  puts  the  hat  on  to  her  head,  and  gets  photo- 
graphed in  it."  I  wish  it  were  possible  to  repro- 
duce Mons.  Blouet's  quaint,  ironical  accent,  and  to 
show  you  the  quirk  of  his  eyebrows.     I  do  not 


112    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

know  what  he  said  about  the  Californian  hired 
girl,  —  possibly  he  never  had  the  honour  of  meet- 
ing her. 

Many  queer  characters  lived  within  a  small 
radius  of  our  ranch-house.  I  dare  say  we  appeared 
equally  queer  to  them,  for  I  often  intercepted  winks 
and  grins  not  intended  for  my  eyes  which  bespoke 
a  keen  sense  of  the  humorous.  Reciprocity  is  a 
blessed  thing,  and  I  am  happy  to  think  that  we 
afforded  some  of  our  friends  as  much  amusement 
as  they  furnished  us.  One  most  remarkable  instance 
of  how  much  stranger  truth  is  than  fiction  came 
under  our  immediate  notice :  a  case  of  Enoch 
Arden.  There  were  two  brothers,  and  the  eldest 
married  a  wife,  who  bore  him  children.  Then, 
tired  perhaps  of  domestic  joys,  he  sailed  away  — 
seemingly  for  ever.  Now  the  younger  brother  had 
lived  beneath  the  elder's  roof,  and  he  knew  that 
his  brother's  wife  was  as  gold  that  has  been  tried 
in  the  fire ;  accordingly,  when  the  years  passed  and 
the  elder  never  returned,  nor  sent  word '  that  he  was 
alive,  it  seemed  good  to  the  younger  to  marry  his 
brother's  wife,  which  he  did,  and  in  due  time  became, 
in  his  turn,  the  father  of  several  children.  And 
then,  like  a  bolt  from  the  blue,  the  man  who  had 
disappeared  reappeared,  descending  ''  perpendicu- 
lar," as  Sterne  would  say,  with  a "  me  void  mes 
enfants  !  "  What  happened  ?  If  you  come  to  think 
of  it,  this  is  a  nice  little  problem  —  something  akin 
to  Mr.  Stockton's  Lady  or  the  Tiger  riddle.  Here 
were  two  husbands,  two  fathers,  —  and  one  wife ! 
The  problem  was  solved  to  the  entire  satisfaction  of 
all  persons  concerned,  including  Mrs.  Grundy,  who 


Ranch  Life  113 

is  not  quite  so  particular  in  the  West  as  she  is  in 
Mayfair.  It  was  obvious,  you  will  admit,  that  the 
elder  had  the  law  on  his  side,  but  only  a  tenth  of  it, 
for  the  very  substantial  nine-tenths  were  and  had 
been  for  many  years  in  the  possession  of  the  younger. 
It  is  also  obvious  that  the  elder  had  no  such  passion 
for  his  spouse  as,  shall  we  say,  Juliet  inspired  in  the 
heart  of  Eomeo.  He  had  deliberately  forsaken  her. 
Still,  it  is  not  impossible  that  he  had  often  re- 
pented, thinking,  may  be,  of  his  children's  faces, 
and  the  old  homestead,  and  the  savoury  dishes  that 
his  wife  could  make  (for  she  was  an  excellent  cook). 
Mind  you,  he  had  not  been  lost  in  a  sub-arctic  forest, 
or  living  on  a  desert  island,  or  doing  anything,  in 
short,  which  could  be  pleaded  as  an  excuse  for  his 
absence  and  silence.  The  story  is  tragic  from  an 
English  or  New  England  point  of  view.  You  will 
say  at  once  that  the  sailor  went  back  to  sea.  Not  a 
bit  of  it.  He  bought  a  piece  of  land  hard  by,  and 
settled  down  comfortably  as  his  brother's  neigh- 
bour. He  did  not  want  —  so  he  said  —  to  make 
any  "  trouble ; "  but  he  wished  to  see  his  children, 
and  his  brother,  and  the  mother  of  his  children. 
So  he  acted  according  to  his  convictions,  and 
the  people  said  Amen.  It  seemed  to  them,  as  it 
seemed  to  the  sailor,  the  only  sensible  thing  to 
do. 

In  the  brush  hills  were  many  squatters — wild 
folk,  living  the  primal  life,  half -clothed,  half -starved, 
drinking  coffee  made  from  roasted  barley,  eating 
what  they  could  shoot,  and  not  unfrequently  what 
they  could  steal.  A  friend  of  ours,  a  foreigner,  a 
man  of  breeding  and  culture,  went  to  live  amongst 

8 


114    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

them.  One  day,  I  asked  him  the  why  and  the 
wherefore  of  it.  "I  will  tell  you,"  said  he,  very 
gravely.  "I  have  lived,  as  you  know,  in  ze  capi- 
tals of  ze  vorld.  And  I  came  to  ze  conclusion  zat 
society  was  a  big  monkey-house,  and  zat  all  ze 
monkeys  were  trying  to  pull  each  ozer's  tails.  But 
I  will  tell  you  —  entre  nous  —  ze  monkeys  in  ze 
backwoods  of  California  are  worse,  far  worse,  zan 
ze  monkeys  in  society  !  " 

Some  of  the  men,  however  (they  are  generically 
known  as  "Pikers,"  because  many  of  them  came 
originally  from  Pike  County,  Missouri),  if  found 
lacking  in  the  "small,  sweet  courtesies  of  life," 
have,  none  the  less,  some  interesting  attributes.  I 
knew  one  capital  fellow  who  in  happier  circum- 
stances would  have  become  a  naturalist  of  note. 
He  was  what  is  called  "  a  market  hunter ; "  and 
none  was  more  familiar  than  he  with  the  habits 
and  habitat  of  game.  He  seemed  to  know  by 
instinct  where  the  big  trout  might  be  found,  and 
could  catch  them  with  his  hands;  he  was  the 
finest  stalker  I  have  ever  met;  he  used  to  come 
striding  into  town  with  dozens  of  quail,  when 
other  market  hunters  would  tell  you  that  there 
were  no  birds  in  the  country ;  he  could  always 
predict  the  coming  of  the  snipe  and  wild  duck, 
of  which  he  shot  thousands  annually;  and  he 
was,  in  his  youth,  as  strong  and  as  handsome  as 
Hercules.  Another  man  was  an  ornithologist,  a 
daring  fowler  and  scaler  of  cliffs.  He  performed 
the  almost  impossible  feat  of  robbing  a  condor's 
eyrie.  These  birds  are  larger  than  the  South 
American  condor,  with  a  spread  of  wing  exceeding 


Ranch  Life  115 

ten  feet,  and  a  beak  powerful  enough  to  crack  the 
shank  bone  of  a  sheep.  Our  friend  captured  a 
young  condor  and  nourished  it  successfully  for 
some  weeks.  Then  he  asked  us  to  arrange  with 
the  Zoological  Society  for  its  purchase  and  ship- 
ment, but,  unfortunately,  before  we  could  do  so 
the  bird  died.  These  rapacidae  are  only  to  be 
found,  I  believe,  in  the  County  of  San  Luis  Obispo, 
and  in  the  mountains  that  lie  near  the  seaboard  in 
California  Baja.  Another  Missourian,  a  cousin  of 
the  last,  was  also  a  market  hunter  and  a  naturalist. 
He  had  made  a  special  study  of  wild  bees,  the  bees 
that  hive  in  holes  in  the  steep  sandstone  cliffs  and 
those  also  who  hive  in  rotten  trees.  From  the  sale 
of  the  honey  taken  from  them,  from  the  sale  of  game 
and  venison  (the  latter  suh  rosa)  and  fish,  both  sea- 
fish  and  trout,  this  son  of  Arcadia  supported  him- 
self, his  wife,  two  brothers,  his  wife's  mother,  and 
a  large  family  of  children !  He  often  told  me  that 
he  could  not  work,  using  the  word  work  in  its 
Western  significance;  yet,  in  his  own  calling,  he 
laboured  more  assiduously  and  to  better  purpose 
than  two  ordinary  hired  men. 

I  have  not  entered  into  a  detailed  account  of  our 
ranch  duties,  because  these  will  be  treated  in  the 
appendix. 

Of  our  amusements  something  may  be  said.  At 
one  time  we  played  polo,  and  I  believe  I  am  en- 
titled to  the  credit  of  introducing  the  game  to  the 
Pacific  Slope.  We  used  to  play  regularly  in  '83, 
and  I  should  be  very  interested  to  know  if  the 
game  was  played  West  of  the  Kocky  Mountains 


1 1 6    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

at  an  earlier  date.  The  vaqueros  delighted  in  it, 
and  proved  amazing  players,  although  it  was  im- 
possible to  teach  them  team  play.  Each  played 
for  his  own  hand,  and  each  rode  as  if  he  had  a 
dozen  lives.  I  can  remember  one  memorable  game 
when  four  of  us  Englishmen  played  against  four 
vaqueros.  Half  the  county  witnessed  the  match, 
and  the  excitement  was  tremendous:  the  women 
standing  up  in  the  spring  waggons  and  shouting, 
and  the  men  betting  and  cursing.  The  umpire  had 
a  sorry  time  of  it,  for  our  opponents  broke  every 
rule,  written  or  unwritten.  The  game  was  drawn : 
each  side  winning  two  goals.  We  should  have  won 
hands  down  had  our  antagonists  ridden  ponies  like 
ours  under  standard  size.  But  we  had  conceded  to 
them  the  odds  of  riding  what  horses  they  pleased, 
and  as  many  as  they  pleased.  So  they  outgalloped 
us  from  first  to  last.  But  it  was  a  glorious  match ! 
Every  man  who  played  was  more  or  less  hurt ;  but 
no  bones  were  broken,  and  no  money  changed 
hands.  Some  people  imagined  that  we  made  the 
game  a  draw  on  purpose.  I,  as  captain,  can  testify 
that  we  played  to  win,  and  were  within  an  ace  of 
losing. 

We  had  plenty  of  fun  apart  from  polo,  breaking 
our  ponies  and  training  them  to  jump.  And  we 
practised  throwing  the  lariat,  although  we  never 
became  skilful  with  it.  There  were  no  race- 
meetings  in  our  county  till  the  County  Fairs  were 
organised;  but  one  man  would  match  his  horse 
against  another's,  and  these  matches  would  gener- 
ally take  place  upon  the  Pizmo  sands,  a  magnificent 
race-course  fifteen  miles  long  and  fifty  yards  wide. 


Ranch  Life  117 

Here  also  were  held  the  clambakes  and  barbecues : 
Homeric  feasts  whereat  the  meat  was  hung  upon 
long  willow  spits,  roasted  over  glowing  wood-coals, 
and  eaten  with  a  sauce  cunningly  compounded  of 
tomatoes,  onions,  and  chiles.  These  delightful  en- 
tertainments were  given  and  attended  by  Span- 
ish people  for  the  most  part.  The  fair  senoritas 
would  bring  their  guitars,  and  sing  those  pathetic 
love  lilts  which  have  a  charm  so  distinctive  and 
peculiar  and  ephemeralj  for  they  are  passing  with 
the  people  who  sang  them,  and  will  soon  be  utterly 
forgotten.  After  the  barbecue,  the  men  would 
smoke,  and  often  take  a  nap,  and  then  would 
follow  some  feats  of  horsemanship.  A  race  be- 
tween a  caballero  and  a  man  afoot  to  a  post  twenty- 
five  yards  distant,  and  back,  was  always  well  worth 
watching.  As  a  rule  the  man  beat  the  horse  on 
account  of  the  difficulty  in  turning. 

Some  of  the  country  dances  were  amusing.  Jack 
always  took  his  Jill  to  these  functions,  and  certain 
unwritten  laws  were  rigorously  observed.  It  was 
not  considered  good  form  to  take  your  partner  out- 
side the  ballroom.  After  the  dance,  you  led  her  to 
a  seat,  and,  bowing,  deserted  her.  One  English- 
man, at  his  first  village  dance,  got  himself  into 
what  might  have  proved  a  serious  scrape.  He 
had  no  Jill  of  his  own,  and  being  introduced  to  a 
pretty  one  belonging  to  somebody  else,  made  him- 
self agreeable.  The  girl  danced  with  him,  and  was 
then  taken  for  a  short  stroll  outside  beneath  those 
stars  which  seem  to  shine  more  brightly  in  Cali- 
fornia than  anywhere  else  —  particularly  when  you 
are  young.     I  must  not  presume  to  say  what  passed 


1 1 8    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

between  the  pair,  but  I  am  sure  nothing  of  more 
importance  than  a  few  idle  compliments,  for  the 
maid  was  very  pretty,  and  she  danced  like  a  sylph, 
and  the  man  —  I  knew  him  well  —  could  turn  a 
phrase.  When  they  returned  to  the  dancing  hall,  a 
waltz  had  begun,  and  Jack  now  appearing  to  claim 
it,  little  Jill  was  easily  constrained  to  give  it  to 
the  other.  My  friend  told  me  afterwards  that  he 
marked  a  ring  upon  her  forefinger,  a  gold  ring  with 
a  diamond  set  in  the  middle  of  it,  and  he  was  rather 
surprised  when  she  refused  to  leave  the  heated 
room  after  the  waltz  was  over.  She  blushed  too 
when  he  begged  her  to  go  to  supper  with  him,  and 
said,  without  assigning  any  reason,  that  that  was 
quite  impossible.  The  Englishman,  unconscious  of 
giving  offence,  sat  down  and  entertained  his  part- 
ner to  the  best  of  his  ability.  Suddenly,  a  young 
farmer  strode  across  the  room,  and,  standing  in 
front  of  the  maid,  said  in  an  angry  voice:  "Give 
me  my  ring." 

"  But  —  "  protested  the  maid. 

"  Give  me  my  ring." 

As  she  was  pulling  it  from  her  finger,  the  English- 
man understood.  He  had  been  annexing  some- 
body's best  girl !  So  he  rose  up,  and  grasping  the 
youth's  arm  led  him  to  the  door  and  into  the  road, 
where  apologies  and  explanations  were  offered  and 
accepted. 

These  dances  always  began  with  a  Grand  March, 
a  very  solemn  and  silent  function,  a  parade  of  Jacks 
and  Jills  walking  arm  in  arm  to  the  sound  of 
appropriate  music.  During  the  quadrilles  the  steps 
were  called  by  a  Master  of  Ceremonies,  the  language 


Ranch  Life  1 19 

used  being  for  the  most  part  French,  although  I  did 
not  find  this  out  for  a  long  time.  We,  being  Eng- 
lishmen, made  a  sad  mess  of  these  steps  —  which 
were  often  peculiar  and  complex;  but  the  word 
"Swing  Partners,"  never  failed  to  adjust  our  diffi- 
culties and  blunders.  I  can  well  remember  one 
dance  in  a  small  village  at  which  this  command 
was  given  so  often  that  I  ventured  to  ask  my 
partner  if,  in  her  opinion,  the  Master  of  Ceremonies 
knew  what  he  was  doing.  "  He 's  rattled,"  she 
replied  glibly.  "Whenever  he  forgets,  he  says, 
'Swing  Partners,*  and  while  we're  a  swingin'  he 
thinks  over  what  comes  next.  I  think  'Swing 
Partners '  more  interesting  than  *  Sachezl  or  '  h  la 
main  left,*  —  don't  you?" 

Now  in  those  days  "  Saehez "  and  '  ^  la  main 
left "  were  manoeuvres  executed  with  great  dignity 
and  grace ;  you  accorded  your  partner  nothing 
more  than  the  tips  of  your  fingers  in  the  latter, 
whereas  in  the  former  you  advanced  and  retreated 
upon  the  tips  of  your  toes.  But  at  "  Swing  Part- 
ners," you  grasped  the  young  lady  firmly  round  the 
waist,  and  were  not  rebuked  too  severely  if  her 
feet,  in  the  abandon  of  the  pirouette,  swung  clear 
of  the  ground  altogether.  Such  freedom  would  be 
eyed  askance  in  the  large  towns,  but  I  am  talking 
of  the  hamlets  of  Southern  California  —  long  ago. 
Accordingly,  I  assured  my  partner  that  in  my 
opinion  "  Swing  Partners  *'  was  —  interesting. 

When  you  are  introduced  to  a  young  lady  in  the 
country,  she  will  probably  repeat  your  name.  Mr. 
Robinson  begs  to  present  Mr.  Jones  to  Miss  Smith. 
Mr.  Jones  murmurs  "  Miss  Smith  ; "  and  Miss  Smith 


I20    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

murmurs  "Mr.  Jones."  If  Mr.  Jones  be  English, 
she  is  sure  to  add:  "From  London,  I  presume." 
This  always  annoys  an  Englishman  of  the  upper 
and  upper-middle  classes,  because  he  does  not  wish 
to  be  taken  for  a  cockney.  I  can  recall  meeting 
two  ladies  who  were  not  from  the  country,  but 
essentially  town-bred.  They  too  "  presumed  "  that 
I  was  from  London.     I  said,  "  No." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  younger  of  the  two,  "  you 
have  been  in  London  ? "  and  on  my  admitting  as 
much,  she  continued :  "  And  perhaps  you  have 
met  a  friend  of  ours,  Mr.  Simpkins  ? " 

I  regretted  that  I  had  not  the  pleasure  of  Mr. 
Simpkins'  acquaintance,  but  the  lady  was  not  satis- 
fied. "  England "  —  I  make  no  doubt  that  her 
thoughts  ran  in  this  strain  —  "  is  a  small  country. 
These  men  must  have  met  some  time  and  some- 
where." Accordingly  she  smiled  and  murmured : 
"  He  has  curly  hair  and  he  was  connected  with  a 
large  firm,  yes,  a  very  responsible  firm  —  the  jewel- 
lery line.  Are  you  sure  you  have  never  met 
him  ? " 

"  Never,"  said  I. 

"  He  had  a  jealous  wife,"  she  insisted  ;  "  and  his 
hair  was  beautiful :  black  and  curly  —  was  n't  it, 
Sadie?" 

"He  was  an  elegant  gentleman,"  assented  Miss 
Sadie  ;   "  and  his  wife  was  —  terribly  jealous." 

I  hinted  that  curly  hair  and  moral  rectitude  did 
not  always,  so  to  speak,  trot  in  the  same  class.  I 
have  no  doubt  that  Mrs.  Simpkins  was  not  jealous 
without  reason. 

In  '86  the  rise  in  the  value  of  land,  with  increased 


Ranch  Life  121 

taxation  and  a  fall  in  the  price  of  cattle,  turned 
many  rancheros  into  farmers.  The  big  Spanish 
grants  were  cut  up  and  sold  in  small  tracts  to 
Eastern  and  mid- Western  buyers.  Th^ese  men 
fenced  their  farms  with  barbed  wire,  built  ram- 
shackle board-and-batten  houses  and  barns,  and 
talked  glibly  of  improvements.  Across  the  fair  face 
of  the  Southern  Californian  landscape  was  inscribed 
the  grim  word  —  Ichabod.  In  an  incredibly  short 
time,  the  superb  trees  —  the  live  oaks,  white 
oaks,  madrones,  sycamores,  and  cotton-woods  —  were 
chopped  down.  A  spirit  of  utilitarianism  was 
abroad,  smiting  hip  and  thigh,  sparing  nothing, 
not  even  the  ancient  mission  of  San  Luis  Obispo. 
It  stands  to-day  smugly  respectable  in  a  cheap 
modern  overcoat  of  concrete  and  paint.  The  pic- 
turesque tiles  have  been  thrown  to  the  void ;  the 
pillars  and  arches  have  been  pulled  down  ;  and  the 
padres'  garden  —  a  cool  sequestered  pleasance,  fra- 
grant with  herbs  whose  very  names  and  uses  are 
forgotten  —  has  been  subdivided  into  town  lots  ! 

Once,  upon  the  steps  of  the  church,  I  met  an  old 
Spanish  woman,  whose  withered  face  was  framed 
in  a  soft  black  shawl,  most  becomingly  draped. 
She  chattered  of  the  pleasant  yesterdays,  and  I 
asked  idly  if  she  approved  the  changes  that  had 
been  wrought  in  the  ancient  building. 

"  My  American  friends,"  she  answered  in  her  own 
tongue,  "  tell  me  to  wear  a  jacket  with  big  sleeves, 
and  to  buy  a  bonnet,  but,  seHor,  this  shawl  suits  me 
best.  And  the  Mission  was  getting  like  me  — ugly 
and  wrinkled  j  but  I  wish  they  had  left  it  —  its  old 
shawl." 


122    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

My  brother  and  I  sold  our  cattle,  and  began  to 
sow  wheat  in  our  valleys  and  on  our  hills.  Some 
of  the  neighbours  planted  out  large  orchards  and 
vineyards ;  others  opened  stores.  Churches  and 
school-houses  were  built.  Everywhere,  even  in  the 
brush  hills,  was  heard  the  buzz  of  the  big  threshing 
machines,  the  skirl  of  the  circular  saws,  the  clang 
of  the  hammer  on  the  anvil ;  all  the  sounds,  in  fine, 
of  what  is  called  Prosperity. 

The  tiny  hamlet  that  lay  upon  the  outskirts  of 
our  ranch  became  a  bustling  village.  My  brother 
and  I  rubbed  our  eyes,  just  as  Eip  Van  Winkle 
rubbed  his  when  he  returned  to  the  town  that  he 
had  known  as  Sleepy  Hollow.  But  if  the  dust  was 
still  in  our  eyes,  we  were  soon  sensible  that  those 
around  us  were  wide  awake.  The  change  from  past 
to  present  was  as  the  contrast  between  Jacob  and 
Esau.  The  vaquero,  rough,  honest,  brave,  and 
chivalrous,  had  galloped  away  to  other  pastures ; 
in  his  place  stood  the  farmer,  the  smooth-talker, 
the  man  of  guile,  cunning,  and  crafty.  Gone  too 
were  the  long  days  in  the  saddle,  gone  with  the 
quail  and  the  wild  ducks,  and  the  deer  and  the 
antelope.  Our  ploughshares  were  bright,  but  our 
guns  rusted  in  their  cases. 

On  a  wheat  ranch,  the  work  begins  before  cock- 
crow, and  it  ends  when  you  fling  yourself,  spent 
and  aching,  upon  your  bed.  For  in  a  new  country 
leisure  is  seldom  found  on  a  farm.  There  is  so 
much  that  clamours  for  adjustment  and  readjust- 
ment :  trees  must  be  felled  and  split  up  into  posts ; 
post-holes  must  be  dug  (two  feet  deep)  ;  wire  must  be 
stretched ;  stumps  must  be  taken  out ;  brush  must 


Ranch  Life  123 

be  burned  off;  and  so  forth  —  ad  infinitum.  And 
above  us  hung  the  impending  sword  of  uncertainty. 
Our  county  had  not  then  passed  the  experimental 
stage.  Speaking  personally,  I  was  always  conscious 
that  no  matter  how  hard  we  worked,  that  the  har- 
vest would  be  reaped  by  others :  that  they  would 
profit  by  our  mistakes. 

Of  the  many  mistakes  that  we  made,  it  is  pain- 
ful but  expedient  to  speak.  We  planted  vineyards 
and  were  compelled  to  plough  them  up  when  they 
came  into  bearing,  because  we  had  chosen  varieties 
ill-adapted  to  our  particular  soil ;  we  (I  speak  now 
of  my  brother  and  myself)  planted  orchards  of 
prunes  and  apricots  and  apples  and  pears ;  and 
they  came  to  nought  because  we  lacked  the  special 
knowledge  that  is  now  the  inheritance  of  the 
Western  horticulturist;  we  tried  to  breed  fine 
fowls,  prize  pigs,  fast  trotters,  and  we  failed,  not 
because  we  lacked  intelligence  or  energy  or  pa- 
tience, but  because  we  did  n't  know  how,  as  a  child 
would  say. 

And  we  attempted  to  do  too  much,  as  our  neigh- 
bours did.  To  use  a  homely  expression,  salted  and 
peppered  to  suit  the  Western  palate :  "  We  bit  off 
more  'n  we  could  chew." 

Upon  the  ordinary  ranch,  of  course,  mixed  farm- 
ing has  become  a  necessity.  In  early  days,  you 
seldom  found  milk  or  cream  upon  the  tables  of  the 
big  rancheros.  The  wheat  farmer  bought  his  vege- 
tables, his  hams  and  bacon,  his  eggs,  his  fruit,  his 
Thanksgiving  turkey,  —  everything  that  was  con- 
sumed in  his  house.  This  policy  was  justified  then 
by  the  price  of  wheat ;  it  can  be  justified  no  longer. 


1 24    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

The  petty  farmer,  who  to-day  buys  anything  at 
the  local  store  except  tea  and  coffee  and  sugar  and 
clothes,  is  either  a  fool  or  a  spendthrift. 

It  is  so  easy  to  have  a  "home"  on  the  Pacific 
Slope :  roses  bloom  perpetually ;  all  fruits  and  vege- 
tables grow  in  profusion  and  perfection ;  the  dairy, 
the  poultry  yard,  and  the  hog  pen  should  keep 
the  table  abundantly  supplied.  What  ruined  the 
farmers  in  the  hard  times  was  not  drought,  nor 
low  prices,  nor  bank  failures,  but  big  store  bills 
and  big  mortgages.  If  the  farmer  and  his  wife 
and  his  sons  and  daughters  had  been  content  to 
wear  canvas  and  fustian,  to  eat  only  what  was 
raised  on  the  ranch,  to  work  together  —  the  hus- 
band and  his  sons  behind  the  plough  and  harrow, 
the  mother  and  daughters  in  the  dairy  and  poultry 
yards  —  they  would  have  weathered  the  storm. 
Instead  of  this,  they  kept  up  appearances.  The 
ranch  was  mortgaged  and  crop-mortgaged,  and  every 
acre  sown  to  wheat :  a  dishonest  speculation,  which 
proved  disastrous  also. 

I  have  known  some  happy  farmers  —  a  few.  If 
you  wish  the  soil  to  bless  you,  you  must  wrestle 
with  it,  as  Jacob  wrestled  with  the  angel.  And 
the  fight  must  be  —  without  gloves  and  to  the 
finish.  Kid-glove  farmers  are  the  most  unhappy 
of  all.  And  the  soil  will  stain  your  hands  and 
roughen  them;  and  the  hard  toil  will  warp  your 
mind  as  it  will  bend  your  back.  Great  loss  is 
involved;  and  the  gain  may  not  be  easily  com- 
puted. And  yet  despite  an  experience  which  has 
been  unfortunate,  I  firmly  believe  that  life  in  the 
open  air,  beneath  the  genial  skies  of  the  Pacific 


Ranch  Life  125 

Slope,  upon  a  rich  and  generous  soil,  ought  to  be 
a  life  worth  living. 

"  The  secret  lore  of  rural  things. 
The  moral  of  each  fleeting  cloud  and  gale, 
The  whispers  from  above  that  haunt  the  twilight  vale." 

These  to  me  have  inexpressible  charm,  a  charm  the 
greater  perhaps  because  they  may  not  be  lightly 
apprehended.  To  the  farmer  whose  heart  is  in  his 
work,  there  may,  there  must  come  many  trials  and 
disappointments,  for  he  is  the  plaything  of  the 
elements,  the  victim  of  laws  that  he  cannot  con- 
trol; but  there  will  come  also,  in  the  fulness  of 
time,  the  harvest,  the  golden  sheaves  that  a  man 
can  take  with  him  when  he  dies.  To  the  farmer 
in  the  West  whose  heart  is  not  in  his  work,  I  can 
only  say  that  it  were  better  for  him  if  he  had 
never  been  born. 

For  the  seamy  side  is  there:  rough,  encrusted 
with  frustrated  hopes,  scored  by  many  harsh  lines, 
like  the  faces  of  the  women  who  work  too  hard. 
Always  you  are  haunted  by  the  sullen  spectre  of 
a  dry  year,  the  dry  year  that  comes,  it  is  true, 
only  once  in  twenty  years,  and  leaves  when  it 
does  come  the  hearts  of  the  farmers  as  colourless 
and  arid  as  the  brown,  bleak  hills  which  encom- 
pass them.  In  some  years,  too,  the  rain  falls  capri- 
ciously, bringing  plenty  and  prosperity  to  one,  to 
another  want  and  misery.  I  have  stood  day  after 
day  watching  the  green  spears  of  wheat  as  they 
turned  sere  and  yellow,  bending  at  last  in  abject 
supplication  for  the  moisture  that  came  not;  and 
I  have  seen,  how  often !  the  blight  and  wire  worms 


1 26    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

ravaging  a  landscape,  making  it  leprous  and  un- 
clean. On  the  orchards  and  vineyards  fall  frosts 
and  scale,  transmuting  the  silvery  buds  into  charred 
cinders,  blackening  the  green  shoots  and  tender 
leaves  till  the  trees  would  seem  to  be  draped  in 
crape,  mourning  for  their  dead  blossoms. 

And  here,  in  this  land  of  sunshine,  as  elsewhere, 
disease  spares  not,  and  if  you  are  living  far  from 
town  and  doctor,  you  must  wait  in  torment  for  the 
help  that  is  so  long  in  coming.  Your  child,  your 
wife,  is  dying  perhaps,  and  you  sit  beside  what  is 
dearest  to  you  in  all  the  world,  straining  your  ears 
to  catch  the  sound  of  the  galloping  horse  that  may 
bring  life  or  find  death. 

I  have  already  spoken  of  the  sense  of  isolation. 
If  you  have  led  the  gentle  life,  if  you  have  depended 
largely  upon  others,  if  your  nature  craves  the  fric- 
tion of  human  intercourse,  if  fine  music,  beautiful 
pictures,  the  playhouse,  the  cathedral,  have  become 
to  you  not  superfluities  but  necessities,  then  ranch 
life  will  surely  be  hateful  and  unprofitable. 

The  domestic  difficulties  drive  some  housewives 
distracted.  On  a  ranch  it  is  hard  to  keep  servants, 
even  if  you  are  rich  enough  to  pay  them  well  for 
their  services.  Sometimes,  for  many  weeks,  a  mis- 
tress is  compelled  to  do  her  own  cooking ;  she  can- 
not buy  what  she  wants  from  the  village  stores ;  the 
meat  is  tough  and  poor  in  quality;  the  groceries 
are  adulterated.     These  things  are  not  trifles. 

What  affected  us  more  than  anything  else  was 
the  consciousness  that  we  were  living  in  a  cul-de- 
sac.     Happily,  my  brothers  and  I  had  so  much  in 


Ranch  Life  127 

common  that  we  were  more  or  less  independent  of 
others.  Yet  this  very  fact  contracted  our  sympa- 
thies ;  our  circle,  instead  of  widening,  grew  smaller 
and  smaller  till  it  contained  nothing  but  ourselves. 
When  we  stepped  out  of  it,  I  remember,  we  were 
always  amazed  to  find  out  how  unconsciously  we 
had  lost  touch  with  civilisation.  Great  affairs  that 
were  interesting  the  world  that  thinks  and  reads 
excited  in  us  but  a  tepid  interest ;  we  were  queerly 
sensible  that  nothing  mattered  very  much  except 
the  price  of  cattle,  and  the  amount  of  feed  in  the 
pastures,  —  all  the  rest  was  leather  and  prunella. 

I  have  been  tempted  to  dwell  only  upon  memo- 
ries that  grow  brighter  and  more  fragrant  as  the 
years  roll  by.  How  often,  after  a  hot  summer's 
day,  I  have  watched  the  brown  foothills,  as  the 
purple  shadows  were  stealing  across  them.  It  is 
then  that  the  breeze  from  the  ocean  stirs  the  tremu- 
lous leaves  of  the  cotton-woods ;  it  is  then  that  the 
cattle  wind  slowly  across  their  pastures,  leaving 
the  canons  and  gulches  where  they  have  lain  dur- 
ing the  sultry  hours ;  it  is  then  that  a  golden  haze 
envelops  all  things:  a  glamour  as  of  the  world 
unseen,  a  mirage  so  fair  to  the  eye,  so  cunningly 
interwoven  with  fact  and  fancy,  that  the  realities 
of  life,  no  matter  what  they  may  be,  seem  to  melt 
away  into  the  gathering  shadows. 

And  after  the  sun  has  set,  the  air  is  filled  with 
enchanting  odours,  —  the  odours  of  a  land  that  the 
Lord  has  blessed,  the  scent  of  herbs  innumerable, 
the  balmy  fragrance  of  the  pines,  the  perfume  of 
the  wild  flowers,  a  pot-pourri  of  essences  distilled 
by  night  alone. 


128     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

These  are  dear  to  the  sons  and  daughters  of  the 
West :  the  promise,  so  to  speak,  of  better  and  hap- 
pier days,  when  life  on  the  Pacific  Slope  will  be 
purged  of  what  is  mean  and  sordid,  purged  and 
purified. 

This  is  the  dream  of  those  who  love  the  West. 
Is  it  only  a  dream,  a  vision  of  Utopia  ?  It  would 
seem  that  only  cities  please  a  generation  not  con- 
tent with  rural  joys.  Worldly  wisdom,  what 
Maurus  Jokai  calls  our  evil  angel,  tells  a  young 
man  that  he  can  never  make  a  fortune  on  a  ranch, 
which  is  true.  It  is  also  true  that  the  same  young 
man,  nine  times  out  of  ten,  will  make  no  more 
than  a  bare  living  in  the  town,  but  this  knowledge 
is  withheld  from  him.  Only  the  very  few  have 
the  money-making  capacity;  only  the  very  few 
can  come  to  their  full  stature  in  the  over-crowded 
streets  of  a  big  town ;  the  many  die  in  middle 
age,  worn  out  and  weary,  sick  in  mind  and  body, 
paupers  in  all  that  constitutes  true  wealth.  At 
the  mines,  on  the  cattle  ranges,  in  the  orchards 
and  vineyards,  on  the  farms,  these  same  men, 
working  as  hard  and  patiently,  would  preserve 
their  health,  achieve  independence,  and  learn  at 
length  the  lessons  that  only  Nature  can  impart, 
the  lessons  which  teach  a  man  not  only  how  to  live, 
but  how  to  die. 


VII 
BUSINESS  LIFE 


VII 
BUSINESS   LIFE 

SOME  years  ago,  an  article  appeared  in  the  "  Cos- 
mopolitan Keview,"  entitled:  "The  Young 
Man  in  Business."  It  was  written  by  the  editor 
of  the  "  Home  Journal,"  Mr.  Edward  Bok.  None 
reading  the  article  carefully  could  fail  to  mark  two 
qualities  in  it :  the  sincerity  of  the  writer,  and  his 
cock-a-whoop  faith  in  his  creed.  Mr.  Bok,  I  be- 
lieve, came  to  America  as  a  boy  with  no  credentials 
save  those  that  are  inscribed  upon  an  honest  face, 
with  no  capital  save  health,  strength,  and  common- 
sense.  To-day  he  is  a  rich  man,  widely  known  and 
respected.  Some  people  laugh  at  Mr.  Bok  because 
he  caters  and  caters  successfully  to  a  certain  class 
of  readers.  Perhaps  he  is,  in  a  sense,  the  William 
Whitely  of  journalism,  the  Universal  Provider. 
You  may  be  sure  that  Mr.  Bok  never  laughs  at 
himself  —  he  has  n't  time.  Life  to  him  is  a  syno- 
nym of  effort.  Watch  Sandow  when  he  is  putting 
up  his  three  hundred  pound  bell ;  you  will  mark 
a  frown  upon  his  face.  Singers  are  trained  to 
smile  sweetly  when  warbling ;  did  you  ever  see  a 
tenor  smile  when  he  was  standing  on  tip-toe  at- 
tacking the  high  "C"?  Never.  In  fine,  effort 
warps  and  twists  the  face,  as  it  warps  and  twists 
the  body.  This  was  abundantly  set  forth  between 
the  lines  of  Mr.   Bok's  paper.     The  writer  spoke 


132    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

convincingly  of  the  fierce  competition  that  rages 
around  all  trades,  all  arts,  all  sciences.  He  made 
it  plain  that  to  succeed  —  as  he  interprets  success 
—  you  must  not  only  work  hard,  you  must  work 
harder  than  anyone  else.  Whatever  pace  be  set, 
do  you  set  a  faster.  If  your  competitor  works  ten 
hours  a  day,  do  you  work  twelve.  You  must  read 
the  books,  and  those  alone,  that  have  a  direct  bear- 
ing on  your  work ;  you  must  talk  to  the  people,  and 
to  them  alone,  who  can  push  your  fortunes ;  you 
must  eat  and  drink  and  make  merry,  bearing  in 
mind  the  penalties  that  wait  on  excess ;  you  must 
beware  of  the  club,  the  theatre,  the  campus,  because 
these  will  extinguish  the  sacred  fires  of  energy.  I 
am  not  quoting  Mr.  Bok  verbatim,  but  in  sum  and 
substance  that  is  what  he  said.  Reading  the  arti- 
cle, I  was  sensible  that  nothing  short  of  this  eternal 
manifestation  of  energy,  this  perfervidum  ingenium 
which  seems  to  be  the  peculiar  heritage  of  the 
Scandinavian,  would  prevail.  The  mere  recital  of 
what  ought  to  be  done  made  my  bones  ache. 

Since,  I  have  never  thought  of  Mr.  Bok  without 
thinking  also  of  the  fable  of  the  two  frogs.  The 
frogs,  you  will  remember,  fell  into  a  bucket  of  cream. 
One  of  them,  conscious  of  weakness,  knowing  that 
night  was  coming  on,  that  he  could  not  scale  the 
slippery  sides  of  the  bucket,  that  it  would  be  hope- 
less to  try  to  keep  afloat  till  morning,  incontinently 
drowned.  The  other  struggled  and  struggled,  and 
was  found  next  morning  by  the  milkmaid  alive 
and  well  —  upon  a  pat  of  butter  !  We  are  not  told 
any  more ;  but  you  may  be  sure  that  the  hero  sang 
the  song  of  the  churning  to  all  the  frogs  in  Frog- 


Business  Life  133 

land,  and  became  a  great  and  shining  example  to 
his  race  for  all  time. 

Now  Mr.  Bok's  paper  —  as  has  been  said  —  laid 
stress  upon  the  comparative  value  of  effort,  but  he 
laid  still  greater  stress  upon  the  superlative  value 
of  concentrated  effort.  According  to  him,  it  is  ne- 
cessary to  place  all  your  eggs  in  one  basket  —  and 
to  watch  that  basket. 

Unhappily,  this  advice  does  not  commend  itself 
to  the  Native  Son  of  the  Golden  West.  He  likes 
to  place  his  eggs  in  many  baskets  ;  and  then  he 
sets  himself  the  task  —  thereby  wearing  himself 
to  skin  and  bone  —  of  trying  to  be  in  two  places 
at  one  and  the  same  time,  —  like  Sir  Boyle  Koche's 
bird.  If  you  had  access  to  the  ledgers  of  the  men 
who  have  become  bankrupts  in  the  last  decade, 
you  would  find,  under  Profit  and  Loss,  that  the 
profits  made  in  the  bankrupts'  regular  business  had 
been  squandered  and  lost  in  half  a  dozen  or  more 
wild-cat  enterprises.  They  will  generally  plead  in 
extenuation  that  they  have  had  bad  luck ;  which 
reminds  one  of  the  story  of  the  man  who  murdered 
his  father  and  mother,  and  then  invoked  the  mercy 
of  the  Court  upon  the  ground  that  he  was  an 
orphan. 

In  a  certain  town  I  know  there  is  a  sign,  upon 
which  is  inscribed  the  following  legend  :  — 

"Home-Made  Bread:  Job  Printing: 
Rubber  Stamps." 

Bread,  of  course,  demands  in  the  making  clean 
hands ;  job  printing  is  more  defiling  than  pitch. 
One  person  was  baker,  printer,  and  rubber  stamp 


134    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

manufacturer.  I  ordered  a  rubber  stamp,  and 
arranged  to  call  for  it  at  a  certain  hour.  It  was 
not  ready  at  the  stipulated  time,  because  —  so  said 
the  baker  —  the  dough  had  been  troublesome  that 
morning.  When  I  called  again  later,  the  stamp 
was  still  unfinished,  because  —  so  said  the  printer 
—  some  job  work  had  been  promised  by  noon,  and  as 
the  dough  had  not  risen  properly,  the  type-setting 
had  been  necessarily  postponed.  It  was  a  case  of 
Stick  won't  beat  Dog ;  Dog  won't  bite  Pig ;  &c. 

This  robbing  of  Peter  to  pay  Paul  is  the  particu- 
lar sin  of  most  Western  business  men ;  it  clogs  the 
wheels  of  progress ;  it  palsies  prosperity ;  it  keeps 
capital  seeking  investment  in  the  vaults  of  the 
banks.  In  hard  times  it  spells  stagnation.  After  the 
collapse  of  the  land  boom,  I  heard  many  a  man  say  : 
"  I  have  to  pay  what  I  owe,  but  nobody  pays  my 
bills  receivable."  (A  curious  perversion  of  fact. 
No  money  changed  hands  at  all.  In  the  county 
where  I  was  living  at  that  time,  we  went  back  to 
the  primitive  methods  of  bargain  and  barter.) 

This  state  of  affairs  is  profoundly  immoral.  It 
obscures  all  distinctions  between  meum  and  tuum ; 
it  makes  honest  men  thieves  against  their  will. 
Amongst  a  people  who  venerate  evolution,  and 
regard  the  word  as  a  fetich,  who  inscribe  upon  their 
coins  E  Pluribus  Unum,  this  policy,  if  persisted 
in,  will  surely  achieve  degeneration  and  disinte- 
gration. 

That  I  am  speaking  within  my  brief,  none  will 
dispute  who  is  familiar  with  the  history  of  Banking 
in  the  West.  We  have,  it  is  true.  Bank  Commis- 
sioners, who  are  paid  by  the  people  good  salaries  to 


Business  Life  1 3  5 

perform  certain  duties,  involving  a  periodical  ex- 
amination of  the  business  done  by  the  banks,  a 
report  upon  their  financial  condition,  and,  if  this 
be  deemed  unsatisfactory,  certain  powers  plenipo- 
tentiary in  regard  to  a  change  of  management,  or, 
in  extreme  cases,  the  suspension  of  payments.  The 
laws  upon  this  subject  could  hardly  be  bettered ; 
the  administration  of  them  has  become  a  farce. 
The  Commissioners  are  often  ill-chosen ;  their  work 
is  too  hastily  done  ;  they  consider  the  feelings  of 
the  Board  of  Directors,  whom  they  know  personally, 
rather  than  the  depositors  ;  and  consciously  or  sub- 
consciously they  conceal  rather  than  reveal  fraud. 
I  used  the  word  subconsciously  advisedly.  There  is 
a  sentiment  in  the  West,  underlying  all  conduct, 
which  the  Native  Son  fondly  calls  tolerance :  a 
sentiment  which  wilfully  blinds  itself  to  things  as 
they  are,  and  prattles  sweetly  of  things  as  they 
ought  to  be.  In  a  country  where  the  unforeseen 
nearly  always  happens,  the  Bank  Commissioners 
doubtless  justify  themselves  by  predicting  good 
whenever  they  are  confronted  by  evil.  Spero 
infestis  should  be  taken  as  their  motto.  It  is 
obvious  that  these  gentlemen  should  be  compelled 
to  do  their  duty,  or  their  office  abolished.  At  pres- 
ent, they  are  a  menace  to  the  community,  who,  for 
the  most  part,  have  faith  in  them  —  a  faith  sorely 
tried  of  late.  I  know  of  cases  when  unhappy  per- 
sons allowed  all  they  possessed  in  the  world  to 
remain  in  the  keeping  of  those  whom  the  Bank 
Commissioners  publicly  proclaimed  to  be  solvent 
and  trustworthy,  and  who  were  proved  shortly 
afterwards  to  be  neither  the  one  nor  the  other. 


136    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

An  anecdote  illustrates  the  point  of  view  of  the 
Bank  Commissioner.  I  can  vouch  for  the  truth  of 
it.  A  man  was  indicted  by  the  Grand  Jury  for 
embezzlement.  At  the  trial  it  was  abundantly 
shown  that  he  had  misappropriated  money  held  in 
trust  by  him.  But  the  verdict  of  the  jury  was  Not 
Guilty.  A  friend  of  mine  remonstrated  with  the 
foreman.  "  Oh,  yes,"  said  that  gentleman,  "  he  took 
the  money  sure  enough,  but,  you  see,  the  poor  devil 
didn't  take   much." 

Let  us  return  to  the  Banks.  Nearly  all  the  wise 
men  of  the  West  are  bankers,  or  connected  with 
banks,  because  it  is  (or  was)  obvious  to  them  that 
it  is  safer  to  play  with  other  folks'  money  than 
with  your  own.  It  seemed  to  these  gentlemen, 
who  possessed  all  the  qualities  necessary  to  suc- 
cess save  second  sight,  that  land  had  a  certain 
definite  value,  a  value  easily  to  be  determined  by 
the  experts  in  their  employ.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
land,  like  any  other  commodity,  is  worth  what  it 
will  fetch,  neither  more  nor  less.  Accordingly,  in 
defiance  of  the  principles  of  banking,  large  sums 
were  loaned  upon  real  estate,  sums  tied  up  for  a 
term  of  years.  During  the  great  boom,  hardly  a 
bank  in  the  West  refused  money  to  its  regular 
customers  when  the  security  of  a  first  mortgage 
was  offered  in  exchange,  and  so  it  came  to  pass 
that  when  the  boom  collapsed,  when  bad  prices 
and  dry  years  confronted  the  mortgagors,  when 
principal  and  interest  became  overdue  and  delin- 
quent, hundreds  of  thousands  of  acres  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  banks,  who  were  in  consequence 
forced   to   either    sell   them   or  farm   them,  both 


Business  Life  137 

the  sale  and  culture  of  land  being  lines  of  busi- 
ness which  they  were  ill-qualified  to  undertake. 
The  land  in  most  cases  came  under  the  ham- 
mer, and  was  knocked  down  to  the  highest  bidder 
at  a  price  equivalent  to  perhaps  one  fourth  of 
what  the  mortgagor  had  paid  for  it.  This  up- 
heaval of  land  values  paralysed  the  best  brains 
and  energies  in  the  West.  Even  those  who  had 
paid  in  full  for  their  land,  and  owed  no  man  any- 
thing, were  terror-struck.  An  Englishman  sud- 
denly told  that  the  bag  of  sovereigns  he  had 
slowly  collected  during  a  life  of  labour  and  self- 
denial  was  nothing  more  than  a  bag  of  crown 
pieces  would  present  an  analogous  case ;  and  it  does 
not  require  a  vivid  imagination  to  conceive  what 
his  feelings  would  be.  It  is  perfectly  true  that 
the  fictitious  value  of  most  of  the  lands  west  of 
the  Eocky  Mountains  was  steadily  maintained  by 
those  who  were  unable  or  unwilling  to  sell  their 
properties,  but  none  the  less  it  was  in  the  air  that 
we  were  not  upon  terra  firma  at  all,  but  encamped 
on  shifting  sands. 

"Honour"  amongst  business  men  is  a  delicate 
question  to  discuss,  but  one  germane  to  this  chap- 
ter. If  you  talk  to  capitalists  in  any  of  the 
European  cities,  they  will  be  certain  to  impugn 
the  Western  sense  of  honour.  These  gentlemen 
draw  odorous  comparisons  between  their  methods 
and  ours.  Judged  by  their  standard,  we  fall  short, 
—  that  is  certain ;  because  in  an  old  country  it  pays 
to  be  honest,  whereas  in  a  new  country  the  Lord 
would  seem  to  only  help  those  who  help   them- 


138    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

selves  freely  from  other  folks*  piles.  The  Chosen 
People  are  a  concrete  example  of  this,  for  they 
pilfer  and  prosper  after  a  fashion  quite  impossible 
overseas.  But  I  imagine  that  an  impartial  judge 
would  pronounce  the  difference,  ethically  consid- 
ered, to  be  one  'twixt  Tweedledum  and  Tweedledee. 
We  have  no  "  guinea-pig  "  system  in  the  West ;  we 
are  not  hypocrites ;  we  don't  take  very  much  (com- 
pared with  others) ;  and  what  we  do  take  is  always 
published  in  the  newspapers.  If  you  read  the 
"Times"  diligently,  you  will  come  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  a  rich  man  can  do  no  wrong ;  a  Western 
editor  will  prove  to  you  conclusively  that  a  rich 
man  can  do  no  right.  In  "Aurora  Leigh,"  Mrs. 
Barrett  Browning  speaks  of  those  who  sit  in  easy 
chairs  and  damn  the  rows  that  stand.  The  Eng- 
lishman, snug  in  his  easy  chair,  is  given  to  cheap 
condemnation  of  those  who  stand,  and  that  is  why 
he  is  so  beloved  by  the  nations.  When  you  have 
nearly  all  that  the  Gods  can  give,  it  is  not  difficult 
to  be  virtuous  —  as  Becky  Sharp  observed. 

Of  the  many  in  business  upon  the  Pacific  Slope 
who  are  honest  we  hear  nothing,  which  reminds 
me  of  a  story.  At  the  time  of  the  last  Presiden- 
tial election,  when  the  claims  of  Free  Silver  were 
being  generally  exploited,  the  following  was  over- 
heard :  "  Where  are  the  Gold  men  ? "  demanded  a 
Popocrat,  a  street  orator,  who  was  holding  forth  to 
a  crowd  in  sympathy  with  his  dogmas,  "where 
are  they  ?  I  don't  see  them.  I  don't  hear  them. 
Where  are  they?"  After  a  pause  a  deep  voice 
answered :  "  I  '11  tell  you  where  they  are,  they  're  — 
at  work'* 


Business  Life  139 

The  live-and-let-live  philosophy  of  the  West  is 
slowly  changing  its  skin.  Adversity  has  taught 
us  to  check  our  accounts.  Not  so  very  long  ago 
a  store-keeper  found,  after  an  annual  stock-taking, 
that  a  saddle  was  missing.  He  instructed  his 
book-keeper  to  charge  all  the  customers  who  were 
cattle-men  with  one  saddle.  "Those,"  he  argued, 
"  who  have  not  bought  a  new  saddle  will  protest." 
The  book-keeper  obeyed  instructions,  but  not  a 
single  bill  was  protested.  Such  laxity  is  no  longer 
the  rule,  but  the  exception. 

In  all  big  businesses,  in  the  offices  of  the  trans- 
portation companies,  in  the  saloons  and  restau- 
rants, in  the  hotels  and  places  of  entertainment, 
you  will  observe  automatic  tills  that  register  the 
sums  paid,  and  make  peculation  upon  the  part 
of  employes  almost  impossible.  This  ingenious 
machine  has  taught  the  employed  to  rely  not  upon 
what  they  can  steal,  but  on  what  they  can  law- 
fully earn ;  as  a  factor  in  the  ethical  development 
of  the  working  classes  it  is  justly  entitled  to  men- 
tion. Before  it  was  introduced,  employers,  when 
estimating  future  profits,  always  deducted  a  cer- 
tain percentage  for  undiscovered  thefts.  At  one 
time  I  employed  a  large  gang  of  Chinamen  to  cut 
wood  and  cord  it.  They  were  cunning  fellows,  and 
their  tricks  were  not  easily  detected.  For  instance, 
they  would  pile  the  wood  on  a  side-hill,  or  around 
a  stump,  or  the  wood  in  the  centre  would  be  loosely 
corded,  so  that  the  tale  of  cords,  when  I,  in  my 
turn,  SGld  the  wood,  would  be  short.  I  measured 
the  wood  myself,  but,  despite  my  intimate  knowl- 
edge of  their  heathen  arts,  I  was  regularly  robbed. 


140    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

Finally,  I  deducted  from  the  money  due  to  them 
ten  per  cent,  to  cover  fraud  that  had  escaped  my 
eye.  They  did  not  object  to  this  tax,  and  my 
cook  said  that  I  was  "  heap  smart,  same  as  'Melican 
man."  I  commend  this  policy  to  all  who  employ 
Chinese  wood-choppers. 

I  went  into  active  business  in  the  year  1890,  and 
the  business  —  involving  the  sale  and  subdivision 
of  large  tracts  of  land  —  brought  me  at  once  into 
contact  with  many  sorts  and  conditions  of  men : 
bankers,  merchants,  journalists,  politicians,  parsons, 
lawyers,  and  of  course  farmers.  Our  offices  were 
open  from  nine  to  four  to  all  comers,  and  anything 
that  pertained  to  the  development  of  the  county 
or  state  was  discussed  freely  and  at  length.  The 
harvest  moon  of  prosperity  was  just  beginning  to 
wane  on  the  Pacific  Slope,  but  land  was  still  in 
good  demand,  and  our  correspondence  was  very 
large.  Every  scheme  of  importance,  every  enter- 
prise of  moment,  challenged  our  interest  and  atten- 
tion. To  my  father-in-law,  the  head  of  the  firm, 
was  entrusted  also  the  management  of  a  street 
railway  and  of  a  large  hotel.  An  Investment  and 
Development  Company,  of  which  I  was  secretary, 
and  the  members  of  a  committee  formed  for  the 
purchase  of  a  right-of-way  for  a  great  railroad 
used  to  meet  daily  in  our  private  room.  I  men- 
tion these  things,  that  may  perhaps  be  considered 
irrelevant,  because  it  will  be  seen  that  being  identi- 
fied with  a  firm  which  had  done  and  was  still  doing 
an  immense  business,  I  had  exceptional  opportuni- 
ties of  studying  many  phases  of  business  life,  and 
the  characters  of  business  men. 


Business  Life  141 

What  impressed  me  most,  I  remember,  was  the 
fluid  nature  of  the  credit  extended  by  capitalists  to 
all  willing  to  buy  and  improve  land.  Credit  alone 
opened  up  the  country  and  developed  it.  And 
credit  established  also  a  state  of  interdependence 
between  man  and  man  which  brought  in  its  train 
some  curious  results.  Debtors,  sensible  that  a 
golden  fetter  linked  each  and  all  of  them  to  a 
common  creditor,  Capital,  grew  fearful  of  offending 
that  creditor.  Many  excellent  plans  devised  for 
the  public  weal,  and  for  no  other  purpose,  were 
nipped  i'  the  bud,  because  men  could  not  be  per- 
suaded to  vote  against  the  will  of  those  to  whom 
they  were  indebted.  There  is  no  such  slavery  as 
debt.  From  the  debtor's  point  of  view,  the  very 
cardinal  virtues  must  grovel  in  the  dust  before  that 
false  god  —  Policy.  In  the  name  of  Policy  every 
debtor's  knee  must  bow. 

As  time  passed,  men  began  to  chafe  beneath  their 
chains,  to  fret  and  fume  in  secret.  Finally,  the 
freemasonry  of  misery  binding  them  together,  they 
began  to  talk  openly  of  rebellion  and  repudiation. 
Debt  bred  the  Popocrat,  the  Silverite,  the  man  who 
wanted  something  in  exchange  for  nothing.  Debt 
set  class  against  class. 

Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  credit,  percolating  every- 
where like  a  river  in  flood,  irrigating  the  waste 
places,  making  the  desert  to  bloom  and  blossom, 
accomplished  great  good  and  great  harm.  But  the 
harm  is  passing  away,  the  good  remains.  A  clever 
writer  once  said  that  if  you  wish  to  change  a  man's 
character,  you  must  change  his  point  of  view.  The 
point  of  view  of  the  Native  Son  has  changed  en- 


142    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

tirely  during  the  last  decade.  Plastic,  quick-witted, 
eager  to  excel,  with  immense  recuperative  and  re- 
constructive powers,  he  is  not  so  reckless  as  of 
yore ;  he  has  learned  humility ;  he  is  beginning  to 
understand  himself  —  and  his  limitations.  The 
heart  of  the  Native  Son  is  in  the  right  place, 
but  his  head  has  been  cocked  at  a  wrong  angle. 
And  you  can  forgive  him  much  on  account  of  his 
youth :  he  is  not  that  detestable  object  —  an  old 
sinner. 

The  business  man  of  the  West  burns  his  candle 
at  both  ends.  As  a  youth,  his  recuperative  power 
is  immense ;  as  he  nears  middle  age,  it  dwindles  and 
flickers  till  nothing  but  a  spark  is  left.  He  never 
rests.  As  soon  as  breakfast  is  over,  he  hurries  to 
his  office  and  begins  work  at  once ;  luncheon  is 
bolted  in  ten  minutes,  food  not  easily  digestible 
being  chosen,  then  more  work.  His  dinner  hour 
finds  him  jaded,  in  no  physical  condition  to  eat  and 
digest  a  large  meal ;  yet  you  will  see  him  consume 
half  a  dozen  courses  with  an  appetite  sharpened 
perhaps  by  a  cocktail  or  two.  After  dinner,  does 
he  keep  quiet  ?  Not  he.  The  club,  the  theatre, 
or  his  everlasting  work  claim  him.  His  busy  brain 
responds  to  the  stimulus  of  debate,  or  emotion,  or 
greed :  it  grinds  on  and  on,  not  even  stopping  when 
he  crawls,  spent  and  weary,  between  the  sheets  of 
his  bed. 

An  inscrutable  Providence  has  given  America  the 
English  tongue,  a  medium  of  speech  unsuited  to  a 
people  rather  Gallic  than  Anglo-Saxon  in  their 
quickness  of  apprehension  and  power  of  articula- 
tion :   that  is  why  Americans  talk  French  so  much 


Business  Life  143 

better  than  we  do  —  and  English  too  for  that 
matter.  But  a  Volapuk  of  home  manufacture 
would  be  better  than  either  for  a  nation  who  has 
plenty  to  say  and  but  little  time  to  say  it  in.  I 
remember  giving  a  friend  the  name  of  my  London 
tailor.  When  I  saw  my  snip  some  months  after,  he 
thanked  me  for  sending  him  a  good  customer,  but 
he  added :  "  He  was  a  queer  gentleman,  sir."  I  asked 
for  an  explanation.  "  He  was  in  such  a  hurry,  sir, 
that  he  would  n't  try  his  clothes  on."  That  reminds 
me  of  another  story.  I  had  a  large  water  scheme 
to  submit  to  a  New  York  capitalist.  He  told  me 
that  his  time  was  so  filled  up  it  would  be  impos- 
sible to  talk  over  the  matter  unless  I  would  waive 
insular  prejudice  and  discuss  business  at  dinner. 
I  dined  with  him,  bringing  maps  and  reports,  and 
three  times  during  that  dinner  he  was  disturbed  by 
men  wishing  to  see  him  '  In  apology,  he  observed 
that  he  was  sailing  to  Europe  on  the  following 
Wednesday,  and  that  his  engagements  were  "  crowd- 
ing "  him.  "  If  you  are  going  to  England,"  said  I, 
'*  let  us  meet  at  my  club  in  London,  and  go  into  this 
scheme  thoroughly."  He  stared  at  me  and  laughed. 
"  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  that  before  ? "  he  ex- 
claimed. "  I  have  always  a  little  leisure  over 
there.'*  Then  I  demanded  the  name  of  his  steam- 
ship. "I  am  not  sure  whether  I  shall  sail  on  the 
*  Teutonic '  or  *  St.  Louis,'  "  he  replied.  "  As  it  is 
winter  I  can  secure  a  berth  on  either  at  the  last 
moment,  and  there  is  a  difference  of  one  hour  and 
a  half  in  the  times  of  departure.  An  extra  hour 
and  a  half  in  New  York  means  many  dollars  to 
me." 


144    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

Truly  does  the  Western  poet  sing : 

"  I  look  in  vain  for  traces  of  the  fresh  and  fair  and  sweet 
In  yellow,  sunken  faces  that  are  drifting  through  the  street ; 

Drifting  on,  drifting  on, 

To  the  scrape  of  restless  feet; 
I  can  sorrow  for  the  owners  of  the  faces  in  the  street." 

It  is  interesting  to  contrast  two  faces  often  seen 
side  by  side  in  Western  theatres  and  places  of 
entertainment:  the  Anglo-Saxon  and  the  Teuton. 
The  German,  stolid,  phlegmatic,  round,  and  rosy, 
has  worked  perhaps  as  hard  as  or  even  harder  than 
the  restless,  keen-eyed,  sallow-cheeked  man  at  his 
side  ;  but  now  he  is  taking  it  easy.  He  does  not 
chatter  between  the  acts  to  his  wife  or  fiancee ;  he 
absorbs  the  sights  and  sounds  in  front  of  him  with 
evident  gusto,  but  he  gives  nothing  back.  The 
Native  Son,  on  the  other  hand,  is  giving  rather  than 
taking,  he  is  entertaining  his  companion,  instead 
of  allowing  the  people  on  the  stage  to  do  so.  The 
German  goes  to  bed  to  sleep  soundly  till  the  mor- 
row ;  the  Native  Son  lies  awake  for  half  the  night, 
pursued  by  a  Comus  rout  of  vagabond  thoughts. 

Again,  ask  the  German  what  he  reads.  You  will 
be  surprised  to  find  that  a  big  fellow  whom  you 
have  contemptuously  stigmatised  as  a  beer-swiller 
has  read  and  assimilated  the  masterpieces  of  Goethe, 
Schiller,  and  Heine;  he  talks  intelligently  of  the 
great  historians  and  metaphysicians;  he  will  tell 
you  of  the  triumphs  achieved  by  his  fellow-country- 
men in  pathology  and  therapeutics.  But  what  will 
particularly  strike  you,  is  the  man's  capacity  for 
absorbing  and   retaining   facts  that  may  prove  of 


Business  Life  145 

service  to  him  in  his  trade  or  business ;  his  mind 
is  a  storehouse,  wherein  may  be  found  the  food 
best  adapted  to  support  and  prolong  life.  The 
Native  Son's  mind,  on  the  other  hand,  is  a  show- 
room full  of  "  notions,"  a  heterogeneous  collection, 
containing  much  that  is  quaint  and  ingenious  and 
amusing,  but  little  that  is  useful  and  enduring. 

If  the  Native  Son  has  any  respect  for  himself 
and  his  race,  he  must  learn  to  husband  his  resources, 
instead  of  dissipating  them.  Systematic  reading 
of  what  is  best  and  most  inspiring  in  our  literature, 
careful  attention  to  exercise  and  diet,  rest  and  re- 
freshment alternating  with  work  and  fatigue,  would 
regenerate  the  toilers  of  the  West. 


10 


VIII 

ANGLO-FKANCO-CALIFORNIANS 


VIII 
ANGLO-FKANCO-CALIFOENIANS 

I  HAVE  already  spoken  (figuratively)  of  a  stone 
wall  which  the  Anglo-Franco-Californians  have 
built  around  themselves.  Within  that  wall  may 
be  found  a  wonderful  and  exact  presentment  of 
European  life  :  English  men-servants,  French  cooks 
and  dresses,  decadent  pictures,  five  o'clock  tea,  eight 
o'clock  dinner,  and  what  is  inseparable  from  all 
these  good  things  —  ennui.  And  yet  a  fly  lurks 
within  the  ointment  of  their  luxury:  the  sense 
that  by  the  West  they  are  regarded  as  a  joke,  an 
extravaganza.  Within  the  stone  wall  is  what  Dis- 
raeli used  to  call  the  sustained  splendour  of  a 
stately  life ;  without  sits  Kidicule  singing  ribald 
songs. 

Of  the  many  things  English  to  which  Americans 
have  a  right  to  strenuously  object,  nothing  is  more 
objectionable  than  the  stone  wall,  whether  it  be 
concrete  or  abstract.  In  England  it  has  definite 
meaning,  a  raison  d'Ure,  but  even  in  England  it  is 
an  open  question  whether  the  stone  wall  has  not 
kept  out  more  than  it  kept  in.  In  the  West,  the 
stone  wall  is  an  anachronism,  more,  an  impertinence. 
I  do  not  wish  to  be  misunderstood.  Life  would  be 
intolerable  without  a  certain  amount  of  privacy 
The  exclusiveness  that  keeps  an  uncongenial  neigh- 
bour at  arm's  length  is  justifiable  on  the  plea  that 


150    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

his  tastes  and  habits  differ  from  ours.  It  is  not 
justifiable  on  the  plea  that  we  are  intrinsically 
better.  The  Anglo-Franco-Californians  are  accused, 
perhaps  unjustly,  of  posing  as  being  better  than 
the  people  who  are  not  upon  their  visiting  lists. 
Only  Omniscience  can  determine  so  nice  a  question ; 
but  if  they  claim  to  be  better,  the  onus  of  proving 
it  lies  on  them;  when  they  have  done  so,  it  is 
probable  that  the  people  will  cheerfully  admit  the 
supremacy-  As  Professor  Peck  pointed  out.  Colonel 
Eoosevelt  may  be  considered  an  aristocrat,  because 
he  has  proved  himself  to  be  more  patriotic,  more 
unselfish,  more  courageous  —  better,  in  fine,  than 
the  average  citizen. 

The  Anglo-Franco-Californians  have  what  few 
possess  in  the  West,  —  the  means  and  the  leisure 
to  do  what  they  ought  to  do,  the  things  that  worka- 
day folks  are  sadly  constrained  to  leave  undone. 
Many  of  them  soberly  realise  their  opportunities 
and  responsibilities.  The  spirit  that  impels  Dives 
to  cheerfully  loan  to  exhibitions  his  pictures,  and 
china,  and  plate,  the  spirit  that  drives  him  from  his 
comfortable  library  into  the  Pandemonium  of  poli- 
tics, the  spirit  that  makes  him  cheerfully  endure 
the  hardships  and  perils  of  a  campaign,  is  his  good 
angel;  the  spirit,  on  the  other  hand,  that  drives 
him  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  world  in  search 
of  what  can  only  please  or  profit  himself  is  his 
demon,  no  matter  how  angelically  disguised. 

American  readers  will  remember  a  certain  fancy- 
dress  ball  given  in  New  York,  and  the  excitement 
it  created  When  an  army  of  the  "  unemployed " 
was   marching   to   Washington,  when   times   were 


Anglo-Franco-Californians        1 5 1 

troublous  all  over  the  country,  when  it  seemed  to 
thoughtful  men  that  the  chain  which  links  labour 
to  capital  was  about  to  break,  so  fierce  was  the 
strain  put  upon  it,  one  of  the  leaders  of  society 
issued  invitations  to  a  ball  which  was  to  bear  the 
same  relation  to  ordinary  balls  as  the  entertain- 
ments of  LucuUus  bore  to  the  every  day  dinners 
of  ancient  Eome.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  cost 
of  this  ball  was  absurdly  exaggerated,  but  the  prin- 
ciple is  what  concerns  us.  Much  ink  was  spilt  in 
setting  forth  the  pros  and  cons  of  the  case.  It  was 
shown  that  so  far  from  the  ball  being  an  injury  to 
the  poor,  the  benefits  accruing  to  them  from  the 
large  sums  of  money  put  into  active  circulation 
amongst  a  score  of  industries  would  very  measur- 
ably relieve  a  vast  deal  of  distress.  And  yet  the 
sentiment  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic  set  dead 
against  what  was  termed  the  elevation  of  the 
Dollar.  The  Ball  was  a  grievous  blunder  on  the 
part  of  Capital,  because  lavish  display  during  a 
season  of  want  and  suffering  is  and  always  will  be 
cruelly  inexpedient  and  inept. 

The  Anglo-Franco-Californians  have  both  added 
to  and  subtracted  from  the  prejudice  against  things 
"English,"  —  a  prejudice  that  nothing  short  of  an 
awful  war  waged  by  the  English-speaking  peoples 
against  the  rest  of  the  world  will  be  strong  enough 
to  uproot  and  exterminate.  Curiously  enough  there 
is  no  such  prejudice  against  things  French  which 
are  surely  not  above  criticism.  I  remember  a  smart 
equipage  that  used  to  be  seen  daily  at  Del  Monte 
some  years  ago.     A  Californian   confessed   to   me 


152    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

that  he  did  not  like  it,  because  it  was  English.  I 
explained  to  him  that  the  whole  thing,  just  as  it 
stood,  —  horses,  harness,  and  vehicle,  —  was  not 
English  at  all  but  Austrian.  He  eyed  me  dubiously. 
Then  he  said ;  "  Well,  it  looks  English  any  way." 

The  American  nation  borrowed  our  national  air 
and  set  to  it  words  of  their  own.  It  is  now  part 
and  parcel  of  Uncle  Sam's  dearest  possessions,  and 
many  of  his  children  fondly  believe  that  Uncle  Sam 
composed  the  music,  just  as  many  English  peasants 
are  convinced  that  the  Bible  was  originally  written 
in  the  vernacular.  In  the  same  spirit,  English 
customs  that  formerly  were  eyed  askance  have  been 
adopted  and  naturalised. 

When  the  first  English  drag  rolled  through  the 
streets  of  San  Francisco,  the  street  arabs  flung 
stones  at  it,  regarding  it  as  a  symbol  of  what  they 
abhorred :  the  stage-coach,  so  to  speak,  of  Class  Dis- 
tinction, whereon  the  few  could  be  driven  through 
life,  exalted  above  the  many.  To-day  there  are 
many  drags,  and  the  gutter-snipes  cheer  as  they 
roll  by,  freighted  with  youth  and  beauty,  not  be- 
cause their  democratic  principles  have  forsaken 
them,  but  because  they  realise  that  to  them  per- 
sonally the  coach  brings  pleasure  and  profit,  —  the 
joy  of  beholding  a  perfectly  appointed  equipage ; 
the  profit  of  reflecting  that  one  day  they  too  may 
sit  in  the  seats  of  the  mighty. 

I  can  remember  when  it  was  hardly  prudent  to 
walk  abroad  in  breeches  and  leggings.  The  small 
boys,  if  they  refrained  from  throwing  stones,  would 
pelt  you  with  ironical  remarks.  "  Give  that  feller 
the  whole  sidewalk  —  he  needs  it,"  was  a  favourite 


Anglo-Franco-Californians        153 

observation ;  or,  if  you  wore  white  polo  unmention- 
ables, "  Say,  Mister,  ain't  you  forgot  your  pants  ? " 
Anything,  in  fine,  that  differed  ever  so  slightly 
from  what  they,  as  Calif ornians,  were  accustomed 
to,  provoked  ridicule  and  displeasure.  Servants  in 
livery  (the  livery  being  regarded  as  a  badge  of 
servitude),  dog-carts,  ponies  with  hogged  manes 
and  bang- tails,  knickerbockers,  English  saddles  and 
harness,  and  the  like,  were  absolutely  hateful  to 
them  during  the  '80's.  To-day,  these  prejudices 
are  evaporating.  Indeed,  the  pendulum  is  swing- 
ing far  the  other  way.  I  remember  being  asked 
to  a  luncheon  given  at  the  Burlingame  Country 
Club  in  honour  of  some  distinguished  New  York- 
ers who  had  acted  as  judges  at  the  San  Francisco 
Horse  Show.  We  drove  down  to  the  Country  Club 
upon  coaches  belonging  to  members,  and  I,  the 
Englishman  (the  only  Englishman,  so  far  as  I  can 
recollect),  out  of  all  that  large  party  wore  the 
ordinary  clothes  of  the  American  citizen.  The 
others  were  attired  in  the  latest  sporting  fashion. 
Nor  did  their  garments  provoke  criticism  from  the 
foot-passengers.  And  yet,  not  half  a  dozen  years 
before,  curiosity  taking  me  to  a  revival  meeting, 
I  had  been  publicly  apostrophised  by  the  gentle- 
man (white)  who  conducted  the  proceedings.  It 
happened  that  I  had  been  in  the  saddle  all  day, 
and  was  wearing  an  old  check  shooting  coat  and 
a  pair  of  well-worn  breeches.  I  seated  myself 
upon  the  bench  farthest  from  the  preacher,  and 
was  rather  astonished  to  find  myself  an  object 
lesson  to  the  assembly.  "There  sits  one,"  ex- 
claimed the  revivalist,  pointing  a  finger  of  sconi 


1 54    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

at  my  coat,  "who  toils  not,  neither  does  he  spin. 
And  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  was  not  arrayed  like 
unto  him."  This  was  so  obvious  to  the  meanest 
understanding  that  the  speaker's  assurance  seemed 
superfluous.  I  know  now  that  he  was  protesting 
against  a  costume  that,  in  a  sense,  distinguishes 
the  man  who  rides  from  the  man  who  walks.  The 
same  spirit  inspired  another  gentleman  of  humour 
and  imagination  to  enroll  himself  in  a  hotel  register 
as  "  John  Jones,  and  valise,"  merely  because  the 
last  entry  immediately  above  his  ran:  "Thomas 
Smith  —  and  valet." 

I  mentioned  just  now  the  Burlingame  Country 
Club.  The  history  of  that  club  has,  I  think, 
peculiar  interest,  because  it  is  the  epitome,  the 
substantial  sum  and  substance  of  what  the  Anglo- 
Franco-Californians  have  accomplished  in  a  single 
^  decade.  In  its  way  it  is  unique,  because  it  does 
encompass  and  manifest  so  much  that  is  good  in 
contemporary  French,  English,  and  American  life. 
Such  as  it  is,  moreover,  it  must  be  seriously 
reckoned  with  as  a  factor  in  the  development  of 
the  Pacific  Slope.  It  has  passed  the  experimental 
stage;  it  stands  upon  a  firm  social  and  financial 
basis ;  it  has  withstood  ridicule,  envy,  and  internal 
dissension.  The  word  club  will  mislead  English 
readers,  for  the  Burlingame  is  not,  as  Hurlingham 
or  Eanelagh,  a  mere  place  of  amusement,  but  a 
colony  where  people  live  —  some  of  them  all  the 
year  round  —  a  colony  of  persons  who  have  tacitly 
agreed  to  obtain,  regardless  of  cost,  the  comforts  of 
life,  and  to  rigorously  exclude  the  mean,  the  sordid, 
and  the   common.     Burlingame  is  a  model  village 


Anglo-Franco-Californians        155 

of  the  rich.  Nature  has  done  much  for  the  place ; 
art  has  done  more.  It  lies  upon  the  park-like  foot- 
hills that  slope  gently  to  the  Bay  of  San  Francisco. 
In  the  wooded  canons  and  gulches  may  be  found 
the  "cottages"  of  the  members,  houses  built  for 
the  most  part  for  comfort  rather  than  show;  houses 
with  broad  and  deep  verandahs,  with  large  living 
rooms,  with  cosy  corners.  Within,  you  will  mark 
no  silken  and  velvet  hangings,  but  the  freshest  of 
chintzes,  the  most  exquisite  linen,  that  simplicity, 
in  short,  which  is  so  delightful  and  so  costly. 
Here  the  women  wear  the  plainest  clothes,  while 
the  male  gladly  lays  aside  his  cut-throat  collar 
and  assumes  instead  the  soft  and  becoming  stock. 
But  stock  and  skirt  must  be  cut  by  an  artist.  The 
hypercritic  at  Burlingame  might  complain  that  art 
had  just  failed  to  conceal  art.  The  mglige  is  too 
studied.  But  the  whole  is  amazing.  You  have 
polo,  tennis,  golf,  pigeon  shooting,  bathing,  boating, 
and  a  score  of  minor  amusements  to  distract  your 
leisure.  You  can  hire  from  the  club  stables  a 
well-appointed  four-in-hand,  a  tandem,  even  an 
Irish  jaunting  car,  at  a  price  considerably  less 
than  you  would  pay  in  London.  You  have  all 
the  advantages  of  country  life  in  France  or  Eng- 
land. A  pack  of  drag-hounds  —  some  five  and 
twenty  couple  of  well-bred  English  fox-hounds  — 
meets  twice  a  week  during  the  season.  Coaching 
parades  (at  the  last  there  were  eleven  coaches  and 
thirteen  tandems),  steeplechases,  pony  racing,  flower 
shows,  give  the  cottagers  opportunities  of  filling 
their  houses  with  guests. 

It  will  be  seen,  therefore,  that   Burlingame,  as 


1  56    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

an  institution  of  the  Pacific  Slope,  has  claims  to  he 
considered.  But  this  is  exactly  what  the  "  others  " 
refuse  to  do.  The  funny  man  uses  the  place  as  a 
peg  whereon  to  hang  some  ancient  jokes ;  the  "  old- 
timer  "  condemns  it  as  being  "  too  high  toned  " ;  the 
man  who  wants  America  for  the  Americans  pro- 
nounces it  too  English  ;  the  moralist  insinuates  that 
the  smart  set  are  bold  and  bad ;  the  rake  finds 
it  slow ;  and  so  forth.  Some  of  these  charges  are 
true;  most  of  them  are  false.  The  smart  set  in 
England  is  both  bold  and  bad;  the  smart  set  in 
New  York  is  bold,  and  hopes  in  time  to  be  bad ; 
the  smart  set  on  the  Pacific  Slope  is  neither  bold 
nor  bad.  On  the  contrary,  in  contrast  to  the 
somewhat  lax  manners  and  morals  of  early  days, 
it  is  punctiliously  conventional,  almost  Pharisaical 
in  observance  of  Mrs.  Grundy's  unwritten  laws. 
At  Burlingame,  for  instance,  the  ordinary  amuse- 
ments of  the  gilded  youth  of  the  West  —  gambling, 
drinking,  and  debauchery  —  are  strictly  tabooed. 
No  debauchee  can  play  polo  properly  or  ride 
straight  across  country.  No  drunkard  can  play  golf. 
In  fact,  Burlingame,  as  an  influence  for  good,  has 
done,  is  doing,  and  will  do  more  for  the  rich  and 
the  sons  of  the  rich  than  even  they  can  estimate. 
Unconsciously  it  is  setting  a  standard  by  which 
not  only  the  rich  but  the  poor  will  learn  to  profit ; 
but  this  standard  will  profit  neither  if  it  be  kept 
under  lock  and  key. 

Of  things  English  (and  French)  that  do  not  bear 
transplanting,  the  Anglo-Franco-Californian  had 
best   beware.     I   remember  a   story   in    (I    think) 


Anglo-Franco-Californians        157 

"  Le  Petit  Journal  pour  Eire."  One  Frenchman  is 
absurdly  dressed  as  an  English  sportsman ;  another 
finds  fault  with  his  appearance:  " AlphonsCy  tu  as 
Vair  diahlement  hUe." 

"  Qa  m'est  egal"  replies  the  Anglomaniac  com- 
placently, "  Pourvu  que  faie  le  chic  Anglais!' 

On  the  Pacific  Slope  the  chic  Anglais  cuts  some 
queer  capers.  You  will  find  married  women  bear- 
ing crests  on  notepaper:  a  solecism  not  unknown 
in  England  amongst  people  of  quality.  I  told  one 
dame  that  no  woman  bears  her  father's  crest,  and 
that  it  is  not  the  best  form  to  use  her  husband's ; 
but  I've  no  doubt  she  thought  me  an  officious 
and  ignorant  ass.  There  is  a  story  in  New  York 
of  a  lady  who  chose  for  armorial  bearings  a  shield, 
argent,  with  a  bend,  sinister  ! 

These  are  the  ha'penny  matters,  but  fraught 
with  a  certain  significance.  The  English  custom 
of  "  tipping  "  servants  has  also  come  to  the  Pacific 
Slope,  where  servants  receive  already  enormous 
wages ;  nearly  twice  as  much  as  is  paid  in  England. 
This  might  have  been  left  overseas.  More,  the 
people  who  "tip"  deem  it  necessary  to  give  gold, 
utterly  regardless  of  those  whose  pockets  are  lined 
with  silver.  The  docking  of  horses'  tails,  too,  in 
a  fly-infested  country,  in  a  country  moreover  where 
these  same  horses  are  regularly  turned  out  to 
grass,  is  not  to  be  commended  merely  because  it 
is  English. 

But  the  characteristic  which  more  than  any 
other  stirs  the  spleen  of  the  Native  Son,  and  which 
is  far  more  easily  acquired  than  an  English  accent 
(whioh  after  all  is  funny  without  being  vulgar),  is 


158    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

that  you-be-damnedness  which  has  so  endeared 
Englishmen  to  all  foreigners.  Now  in  England  a 
Cambyses'  vein  has  its  uses.  It  would  seem  as 
if  the  Captain  were  no  Captain  without  his  choleric 
word,  but  the  same  in  the  mouth  of  an  American 
is  rank  blasphemy  against  common-sense,  kindli- 
ness, and  humour.  I  am  always  impressed  by  the 
Briton  who  buys  one  railway  ticket  and  occupies 
a  whole  carriage.  He  is  so  truly  sublime,  so  monu- 
mental, that  you  would  like  to  thank  him  warmly 
for  the  pleasure  he  has  given  as  a  —  spectacle. 
But  the  Californian,  poor  fellow,  cannot  assume 
the  god  so  easily.  When  he  attempts  the  Olympian 
nod,  no  spheres  are  shaken  —  only  the  sides  of  the 
witnesses.  An  Englishman  can  look  superior.  A 
Californian,  stiffening  his  mobile  face  into  the 
solemn,  stolid,  stupid  mask  of  the  heavy  British 
swell,  looks  exactly  what  he  is  —  an  ape. 


IX 

THE  ENGLISHMAN  IN  THE 
WEST  — I 


IX 
THE  ENGLISHMAN    IN   THE  WEST  — I 

A  YOUTH,  we  are  told,  once  swore  that  he 
would  fire  the  Atlantic ;  on  trial  he  proved 
too  feeble  to  strike  a  match !  So  colossal  a  failure 
is  pathetic.  The  abyss  between  promise  and  per- 
formance may  only  be  spanned  by  pity  or  ridicule. 
And  who  is  heartless  enough  to  laugh  at  the  poor 
fellow !  Did  his  friends,  we  wonder,  temper  his 
hot  braggadocio  with  cold  common-sense  ?  Doubt- 
less. Yet  one  fears  that  their  attitude  towards  the 
weakling  was  ungracious.  Some  premonition  that 
the  boaster  would  live  to  become  importunate,  a 
clog,  a  bore,  perhaps  a  corpse  to  be  buried,  soured 
the  milk  of  their  kindness.  Sensible  of  their 
own  merits,  his  demerits  become  a  reproach,  ay, 
a  menace  to  peace  of  mind.  They  might  have 
urged  him  to  fire  the  Thames,  or  even  a  teaspoon- 
ful  of  water ;  but  a  failure  at  home  would  provoke 
offensive  comment.  So  they  gave  him  a  box  of 
matches  and  set  him  afloat  upon  the  ocean. 

In  this  spirit  heads  of  families  in  England  send 
their  fools  abroad.  If  Johnnie  fails,  he  will  fail 
at  a  distance ;  and  then  sorrow  at  his  mishap  will 
be  computed  inversely  according  to  the  square  of 
the  distance  between  father  and  son. 

Johnnie,  of  course,  takes  himself  very  seriously. 

He  is  not  going  to  fail,  not  he.     And   he  studies 

11 


1 62    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

profoundly  not  the  getting,  but  the  spending  of  the 
gold  that  will  be  his.  He  scatters  a  largess  of 
promises.  The  dear  old  governor  shall  have  that 
piece  of  land  he  covets.  The  Mater  shall  spend 
her  winters  in  the  Eiviera.  Kitty  will  look  sweetly 
pretty  in  a  pearl  necklace.  The  dear  old  governor 
coughs  nervously;  but  Kitty  and  the  Mater  kiss 
Johnnie;  and  they  drop  a  tear  or  two  together 
afterwards;  for  they  know  in  their  hearts  that 
Johnnie's  promises  and  cheques  will  be  honoured 
at  only  one  place,  the  bank  of  Love. 

Let  us  skip  the  farewells,  and  follow  Johnnie 
to  New  York.  As  he  is  morbidly  anxious  that  he 
should  not  be  mistaken  for  an  American  citizen ; 
he  wears  a  golfing  suit  instead  of  the  frock  coat 
and  silk  hat  that  are  as  much  de  rigueur  on  Fifth 
Avenue  as  in  Mayfair.  Crowned  with  a  cap,  he 
parades  his  motley  up  and  down  a  crowded  thorough- 
fare, serenely  unconscious  that  only  the  bells  are 
missing.  However,  he  lingers  not  in  Gotham.  He 
pines  for  the  Pactolian  west,  for  the  boundless 
plains  where  he  can  spread  his  wings,  and  soar. 
So  he  "  takes  the  cars,"  and  they  take  him  across 
that  wonderful  New  World,  which,  despite  its  amaz- 
ing charm  and  beauty,  seems  so  very  painfully  new 
to  Johnnie.  He  is  sure  to  air  his  impressions  in 
the  smoking-room  of  the  car,  and  he  will  believe 
that  the  bagman  by  his  side,  who  listens  with  such 
courteous  interest,  is  mightily  affected.  Presently 
the  bagman  asks  those  two  significant  questions: 
whence  and  whither;  and  in  reply  to  the  latter 
Johnnie  confesses  vaguely  that  he  means  to  make 
his  pile  somehow  and  somewhere,  but  his  plans  as 


The  Englishman  in  the  West      163 

yet  are  hardly  inchoate.  The  bagman,  who  has 
made  plans  and  brought  them  to  a  successful  issue 
ever  since  he  was  breeched,  abhors  a  vacuum  and 
tries  to  fill  it.  The  "filling"  amuses  the  other 
passengers  and  does  no  harm  to  Johnnie.  Soon  he 
is  stuffed  like  a  Michaelmas  goose,  although  still 
unplucked.  Alas !  the  plucking  comes  after  the 
roasting. 

He  has  now,  we  will  say,  reached  the  Pacific 
Slope.  The  sense  of  distance  —  the  miles  that 
stretch  between  himself  and  home  —  affects  him 
strangely.  Contrast  colours  his  opinions,  dyes  them 
from  drab  to  red.  In  a  country  as  yet  unfenced, 
young  men,  he  finds,  ride  where  they  please,  setting 
their  own  pace.  Johnnie  reflects  that  if  his  horse 
should  run  away  there  are  no  barriers  to  stop  him. 
This  robs  the  adventure  of  danger.  In  England  are 
many  pitfalls,  many  hedges  and  ditches.  Who 
dares  ride  across  country  with  a  loose  rein  ?  But 
in  California  — 

Who-whoop  !    Let  her  go,  Gallagher ! 

Once  in  Santa  Cruz,  a  bland  Mongolian  mounted 
a  horse,  and  the  beast  straightway  bolted  in  the 
direction  of  some  steep  cliffs.  "Where  are  you 
going,  Quong  Wo  ? "  yelled  an  American. 

"  I  no  sabee,"  replied  the  Celestial. 

In  this  spirit  of  nescience  Johnnie  vaults  into 
the  saddle  and  gives  his  bronco  the  spur.  He  does 
not  know  where  he  is  going,  but  the  bystanders 
know  very  well. 

Sometimes  he  goes  over  the  cliffs,  and  that  is  the 
last  of  him.  Poor,  poor  fellow  !  Who  is  respon- 
sible for  this  pitiful  end  ?    Not  he,  assuredly.     Per- 


164    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

haps  his  best  qualities  have  hounded  him,  hot  foot, 
along  the  Devil's  Causeway.  Generosity,  pluck, 
mirthfulness,  a  desire  to  please,  have  brought  him 
to  grief.  When  the  dear  old  governor  opens  the 
letter  that  tells  him  his  son  is  dead,  does  he  realise 
that  he  signed  the  lad's  death-warrant  ? 

But  these  desperate  rides  seldom  end  fatally. 
Johnnie  has  a  tumble  or  two,  and  sooner  or  later 
he  decides  humbly  to  go  a-foot.  He  will  tell  you, 
if  you  happen  to  meet  him,  that  he  has  sown  his 
wild  oats,  and  means  to  soberly  and  sedulously  seed 
the  future  with  wheat.  This  means  buying  a 
ranch.  None  of  his  people  —  he  assures  you  — 
have  soiled  their  hands  with  trade.  "  I  'm  not 
fitted  for  anything  of  that  sort,"  he  concludes  cheer- 
fully ;  and  heaven  knows  that  he  speaks  truth.  So 
he  buys  an  orchard,  a  vineyard,  a  cattle  ranch,  a 
wheat  farm,  or  a  dairy.  You  can  take  your  choice, 
as  he  does,  of  these  alluring  industries.  In  the  end 
it  will  make  as  little  difference  to  Johnnie  as  it 
does  to  you  sitting  snug  in  your  chair.  Whatever 
basket  receives  the  eggs,  they  inevitably  will  be 
smashed ! 

Had  you  the  magical  carpet,  you  could  transport 
yourself  to  his  new  domain,  where  your  host  will 
be  delighted  to  show  you  his  pony,  hog-maned  and 
bang-tailed,  and  also  his  keg  of  Glenlivet  (for  he  is 
a  hospitable  chap),  and  his  big  canister  of  tobacco, 
and  "  that  caiion  yonder,  where,  by  Jove,  the  quail 
simply  swarm,  my  dear  chap,"  —  and  many  other 
things  animate  and  inanimate  in  which  at  present 
he  is  keenly  interested.  The  crops,  you  may  observe, 
look  patchy,  as  if  wire-worms  were  at  work,  or  the 


The  Englishman  in  the  West      165 

trees  in  the  orchard  have  the  scale,  or  perhaps  the 
"  hoppers  "  are  eating  the  vines,  but  Johnnie  can 
greet  even  the  woolly  aphis  with  a  grin.  "  It 's  not 
quite  so  simple  as  I  thought  it  was,  this  ranching," 
he  confesses  over  a  pipe  and  a  toddy.  "  I  'm  —  I  'm 
going  behind  this  year ;  but  next  year  I  shall  make 
pots  o'  money  !     You  bet  your  life  !  " 

Who  is  brute  enough  to  retort  that  so  far  from 
betting  one  's  life  upon  a  result  so  very  dubious,  it 
would  be  folly  to  hazard  a  farthing?  Yet  one  is 
miserably  sensible  that  Johnnie  is  betting  his  life, 
and  that  the  odds  are  against  him. 

Meantime  he  wears  his  tweeds,  and  is  happy. 
For  a  season,  knickerbocker  breeches  made  for  hap- 
piness with  Johnnie  ;  so  do  polo  boots,  and  pigskin 
saddles,  and  brier  pipes.  But  the  sight  of  these 
insignia  of  the  broken  brigade  brings  tears  to  the 
heart.  It  is  like  seeing  a  well-cut  dress-coat  on 
the  back  of  a  tramp.  As  the  years  pass,  Johnnie's 
English  clothes  wear  out  and  are  thrown  aside ;  but 
the  breeches  remain,  stained  and  discoloured,  a  sym- 
bol of  what  has  been,  and  what  in  all  human  prob- 
abilty  can  never  again  be.  Note  the  warp  and 
woof  of  the  stout  cloth :  wool  all  through,  no 
shoddy.  Johnnie  too  was  made  of  good  stuff,  and 
has  worn  well;  but  he  is  stained  and  discoloured, 
thin  and  patched,  torn  by  adversity,  a  scarecrow. 
These  breeches  have  other  significance.  They  are 
Johnnie's  protest  against  the  overalls  of  Western 
life.  They  advertise  the  wearer's  contempt  of 
public  opinion,  his  ineptitude,  his  utter  lack  of  a 
sense  of  proportion.  Think  of  thick  Scotch  tweeds 
and  thick  Scotch  stockings  in  hot,  dusty  Southern 


1 66    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

California.  The  mere  thought  irritates  a  sensitive 
skin.  Yet  you  may  see  these  garments  any  day 
you  please  to  walk  through  Los  Angeles.  There 
they  are  in  the  glare  of  a  semi- tropic  sun,  as  ab- 
surdly out  of  place  as  a  mackintosh  in  the  Sahara 
desert. 

An  Englishman  whom  the  writer  knows  used 
to  drive  tandem  in  California.  Once,  coming  out 
of  a  livery  stable,  his  leader  slipped  and  fell 
upon  the  asphalt  pavement,  rolling  over  like  a 
shot  rabbit.  He  had  no  groom  with  him,  no 
friend.  He  dared  not  descend  from  his  lofty 
perch,  because  the  wheeler  was  kicking  savagely, 
but  some  good  Samaritan  set  the  leader  on  his 
legs  and  cunningly  unravelled  the  tangled  skein 
of  traces  and  ribbons.  As  he  drove  on,  these 
words  drifted  after  him :  "  It  takes  lots  of  trouble 
to  be  an  Englishman." 

Johnnie,  of  course,  despises  American  whisky 
and  American  methods.  He  drives  his  four  work- 
horses after  the  fashion  of  his  kinsman  of  the 
Coaching  Club.  He  would  scorn  to  call  the  reins 
"  lines,"  or  to  hold  them,  western  fashion,  in  both 
hands;  he  dearly  loves  to  turn  sharp  corners  — 
smartly.  One  day  he  turns  too  smartly:  the 
waggon  is  smashed,  the  horses  injured,  the  harness 
ruined.  "By  Gad,"  exclaims  Johnnie.  "We  took 
a  toss  —  didn't  we?" 

These  accidents  —  one  a  week  would  be  a  fair 
average  —  are  not  altogether  displeasing  to  his 
neighbours.  Indeed,  Johnnie's  little  ways  have 
not  commended  him  to  the  favour  of  what  he 
calls  "the  unwashed."     He  prances   upon  Yankee 


The  Englishman  in  the  West      167 

corns,  sublimely  unconscious  that  he  is  inflicting 
pain,  or,  to  do  him  justice,  he  would  be  more  con- 
siderate. Many  years  ago,  a  sprig  of  English 
nobility  called  upon  a  compatriot,  at  what  was 
then  the  most  fashionable  hotel  in  New  York.  In 
the  corner  of  the  room  was  a  coaching  horn.  The 
mere  sight  of  this  filled  my  lord  with  a  fine  frenzy. 
Before  he  could  be  stopped,  he  had  seized  and 
was  tooting  it  with  all  the  strength  of  his  lungs. 
Bell-boys  came  a-running,  and  later  a  note  from 
the  manager.  His  lordship  promised  to  make  an 
amende  honorable.  "You  see,"  he  told  the  chief 
clerk,  "  I  Ve  always  understood  that  in  the  States 
a  man  could  toot  his  own  horn  wherever  and  when- 
ever he  pleased.  So  I  naturally  supposed,  you 
know,  that  he  could  toot  another  fellow's,  if  he 
wanted  to."  This  explanation  was  not  considered 
satisfactory. 

Johnnie  always  gathers  round  him  other  Britons 
as  helpless  and  impecunious  as  himself.  Some  of 
these  are  remittance  men,  who  go  to  town  when 
the  cheque  comes  from  home,  and  when  the  money 
is  squandered  return  to  Johnnie's  beans  and  bacon. 
Of  these  gentlemen  more  will  be  said  presently. 
They  belong  for  the  most  part  to  the  rapacidce, 
and  must  not  be  confounded  with  either  the  wild 
or  the  domestic  goose. 

When  Johnnie's  domain  is  taken  from  him  (under 
foreclosure  proceedings),  he  seeks  work  where  he 
can  find  it,  and  the  search  wears  out  shoe  leather. 
Farmers  know  that  he  failed  to  take  care  of  his  own 
property ;  how  —  they  ask  pertinently  —  can  he  be 
trusted  to  take  care  of  theirs  ?     Finally,  some  com- 


1 68    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

patriot  offers  the  dole  of  board  and  lodging.  One 
man  was  known  to  many  sheep-owners  in  South- 
ern California  as  El  Fraile  (the  friar).  An  ardent 
Eoman  Catholic,  he  had  a  prodigious  memory  glutted 
with  odds  and  ends  of  learning:  all  of  it  quite 
unavailable  for  work-a-day  uses.  What  El  Fraile 
did  not  know  about  the  ante-  and  post-Nicene 
Fathers  was  not  worth  knowing.  He  herded  sheep 
badly,  although  it  was  his  duty  to  herd  them  well. 
Yet  he  had  a  fine  sense  of  humour !  One  day  he 
was  sent  to  town  to  buy  groceries,  and  on  his  return 
the  other  herders  marked  on  his  usually  pleasant 
face  a  most  villainous  and  hang-dog  expression. 
Examined,  he  confessed  with  groans  that  the  store- 
keeper, a  German  Jew,  had  slapped  his  cheek.  And 
he  had  submitted  tamely  to  the  insult  because  with- 
out provocation  he  had  kicked  the  storekeeper's  dog ! 
So  he  had  accepted  his  thwackings  meekly  as  a  pen- 
ance. For  a  week  he  moped ;  then  he  went  again  to 
town  and  returned  to  the  ranch  in  fine  feather.  He 
had  caught  the  storekeeper  cheating  a  child,  and  had 
thrashed  him  soundly  with  a  stout  pigskin  belt. 
The  friar  grew  very  peculiar  as  time  went  by,  and 
the  vaqueros  said  that  he  had  surely  eaten  of  the 
"loco"  weed,  and  was  now  crazy.  His  greatest 
and  indeed  his  only  pleasure  was  confessing  his 
sins.  To  reach  the  confessional,  no  obstacle  was 
too  great  to  be  surmounted.  In  winter,  holding  a 
heavy  stone  in  each  hand,  he  would  wade  through 
boiling  torrents  that  the  greasers  pronounced  im- 
passable. In  his  haste  to  deliver  his  soul  he  would 
outstrip  the  stage  to  Santa  Barbara.  His  appear- 
ance, you  may  be  sure,  was  no  less  disordered  than 


The  Englishman  in  the  West      169 

his  wits:  he  wore  a  ragged,  grey  flannel  shirt,  a 
pair  of  tattered  pantaloons,  and  huge  Blucher  boots. 
Father  X ,  of  the  Mission,  who  was  rather  par- 
ticular, and  with  whom  El  Fraile  loved  to  walk, 
gave  the  poor  fellow  a  long,  white  dust  coat ;  but 
the  friar,  finding  it  inconveniently  long,  trimmed 
off  the  skirts  with  a  blunt  clasp-knife,  and  when 
he  came  to  the  pockets  cut  around  them,  doubtless 
considering  that  they  were  too  useful  to  be  sacrificed 
to  mere  symmetry.  Wearing  this  mutilated  gar- 
ment, he  used  to  take  the  air  in  the  padre's  com- 
pany. Finally,  he  informed  his  friends  that  a 
vision  had  been  vouchsafed  him :  the  Blessed  Vir- 
gin had  personally  assured  him  that  he  was  ap- 
pointed by  Heaven  to  fill  the  pontifical  throne,  and 
must  accordingly  betake  himself  to  Eome.  He 
dared  not  disobey,  he  said ;  so  El  Fraile,  without 
purse  or  scrip,  drifted  away  from  the  ranges  and 
out  of  our  lives. 

Bequiescat  in  pace. 

Eeligion,  however,  offers  its  sublime  consolation 
to  few.  As  a  rule,  Johnnie  steeps  his  past  in  drink. 
When  he  audits  his  accounts  with  fate  and  finds 
that  the  assets  are  nil  and  the  liabilities  past  com- 
puting, he  throws  down  his  tools  and  hies  him 
to  the  demijohn.  Some  whisky  kills  quick;  but 
there  are  Englishmen  proof  against  sheep-herder's 
delight.  One  fellow  has  been  drinking  it  steadily 
for  thirty  years.  During  all  this  weary  time  he 
has  received  each  week  from  his  mother  the  "  Lon- 
don Graphic;"  and  each  week  when  it  comes  he 
staggers  to  the  nearest  bar,  and  exchanges  it  for 
one  drink ! 


170    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

In  or  out  of  his  cups  Johnnie  damns  the  country 
for  his  failure.  The  country,  need  it  be  said,  is  not 
to  blame.  No  finer  country  than  California  lies 
out  of  doors.  Others  —  plenty  of  them  —  succeed 
where  Johnnie  and  his  friends  failed.  Had  he 
given  undivided  attention  to  his  business,  he  too 
would  have  succeeded.  But  from  the  start  he 
misinterpreted  that  grim  word  —  work.  He  pro- 
nounced ranching  simple.  Had  he  been  taught 
that  nothing  in  life  is  simple,  that  in  the  strenuous 
competition  of  to-day  no  hour  may  be  wasted  with 
impunity,  no  dollar  squandered,  no  trifle  ignored 
—  had  he  mastered  these,  the  principia  of  life's 
science,  he  might,  who  knows,  have  graduated  with 
honours. 

To  be  crowned  with  laurel  abroad,  this  sort  of 
teaching  must  begin  at  home.  Perhaps  the  fool 
will  never  learn  his  lesson.  A  youth  not  clever 
enough  to  pass  into  the  army  or  navy,  the  Civil 
Service,  or  the  learned  professions,  not  quick-witted 
enough  for  the  Stock  Exchange  or  business,  a  hope- 
less duffer  in  short  at  all  that  pertains  to  genteel 
bread- winning,  —  such  a  lamb  as  this  must  be  kept 
in  the  fold,  not  suffered  to  stray  into  the  stony 
places  of  the  world. 

True  ;  but  what  can  you  do  with  him  at  home  ? 

Let  him  serve  his  sovereign  as  a  soldier  or  a  sailor 
in  the  ranks  ;  let  him  be  apprenticed  to  some  honest 
trade ;  let  him  become  a  hewer  of  wood,  a  drawer 
of  water  ;  let  him  fill  any  position,  however  humble, 
under  the  eye  and  aegis  of  authority,  rather  than 
be  driven  forth  into  the  wilderness  to  perish 
miserably. 


The  Englishman  in  the  West      171 

We  can  hear  paterfamilias  fuss  and  fume  when 
he  reads  the  last  paragraph.  "  What !  My  son  an 
apprentice  ? "  Yes,  dear  Pooh-Bah,  even  your  son. 
You  and  Madam  placed  that  empty  head  on  his 
shoulders.  See  to  it  that  it  is  not  filled  with  lead, 
or  whisky,  or  worse  ! 

"His  sisters  must  be  considered,"  growls  the 
father.  "  They  will  lose  caste  if  Johnnie  is  selling 
ribbons  across  a  counter,  or  working  as  a  labourer 
in  the  fields."  In  this  democratic  age,  it  is  doubtful 
whether  any  person  would  care  twopence  what 
Johnnie  was  doing.  If  the  sisters  were  nice  girls, 
they  would  not  lose  caste  ;  and  if  they  did  find  the 
houses  of  a  few  snobs  closed  to  them,  what  of 
it  ?  But  if  Johnnie  owes  something  to  his  sisters, 
do  not  they  also  owe  something  to  him  ?  Is  it 
right  to  push  a  weak-minded  lad  outside  the  circle 
of  their  influence  ?  Wellington,  I  believe,  in  his 
Peninsular  campaign,  directed  that  the  lists  of  cer- 
tain soldiers  reported  for  punishment  should  be  sent 
home  to  the  men's  respective  parishes,  there  to  be 
nailed  up  on  the  church  door.  Johnnie  is  just  the 
sort  of  fellow  who  would  have  a  wholesome  awe 
of  such  publicity.  He  goes  to  the  devil  abroad,  not 
knowing  his  destination,  as  has  been  said,  but  at 
home  he  goes  to  church.  However,  there  may  be 
cases  in  which  it  is  expedient  that  Johnnie  should 
be  sent  to  America  or  the  colonies.  Then,  teach 
him  first  a  trade.  A  blacksmith  need  never  herd 
sheep;  a  cobbler  will  never  lack  butter  to  his 
bread.  And  who  would  not  sooner  see  his  son  a 
good  mechanic,  rather  than  a  starving,  solitary, 
homeless,  and  friendless  —  gentleman! 


172     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

The  fathers  of  the  fools  are,  as  a  rule,  army  and 
naval  officers  retired  on  half-pay.  What  a  pathetic 
procession  they  make,  these  veterans  of  the  Crimea 
and  the  Mutiny  !  You  meet  them  in  every  country 
town :  two  and  two,  marching  stiffly,  keeping  step 
to  the  drums  and  fifes  of  precedent  and  prejudice, 
chests  well  inflated,  clothes  well  brushed  —  clean, 
kindly,  honourable  men.  And  their  sons  —  so  say 
they  all  —  must  be  also  gentlemen.  God  knows 
one  wishes  for  their  sakes  it  might  be  so ;  but  is  it 
possible  ?     Is  it  practicable  ? 

"My  lad  is  a  fool,"  a  major-general  complained 
to  the  writer,  some  years  ago.  "  What  shall  I  do 
with  him?" 

"  Don't  send  him  to  America  or  the  Colonies  un- 
less you  first  teach  him  a  trade." 

"  There  is  no  place  for  my  son  in  trade,  sir,"  re- 
plied the  veteran,  stiffly  ;  "  and  no  place  for  him  at 
home,"  he  added  grimly. 

Did  this  Eoman  father  probe  the  true  signifi- 
cance of  his  words?  Had  he  no  bowels  of  com- 
passion for  the  infirmity  of  his  boy  ?  Did  he 
deliberately  determine  to  expose  the  weakling,  to 
let  him  die  out  of  sight,  whilst  he,  the  father, 
kept  immaculate  his  bubble  reputation  as  a  gen- 
tleman ?  The  lad  in  question  was  sent  forth  abso- 
lutely unequipped  for  the  struggle  (although  his 
breeches  were  cut  by  Tautz),  and  he  died.  Who 
killed  him? 

For  the  wise,  the  strong,  the  patient,  and  the 
thrifty  there  is  gold  everywhere  ;  for  the  weak  and 
the  witless  there  is  no  gold  anywhere,  only  the 
hard  quartz  in  which  the  metal  was  once  imbedded. 


The  Englishman  in  the  West      173 

In  England,  the  beggar  gets  the  crumbs  and  pity  of 
the  rich ;  abroad,  he  gets  not  bread  but  stones,  not 
pity  but  contempt. 

In  the  name  of  mercy,  keep  your  fools  in  the 
family. 


X 


THE  ENGLISHMAN  IN  THE 
WEST  — n 


X 

THE  ENGLISHMAN  IN  THE  WEST  —II 

IN  addition  to  the  family  fool,  the  types  of  Eng- 
lishmen to  be  found  on  the  Pacific  Slope  include 
the  parson's  son,  the  fortune-hunter,  the  moral  idiot, 
the  remittance  man,  and  the  sportsman. 

Of  the  parson's  son  one  might  quote  the  French 
proverb :  a  cobbler's  child  is  not  the  best  shod.  It 
would  seem  that  many  of  the  Children  of  the  Church 
of  England  are  not  shod  at  all.  They  wander  bare- 
foot through  the  stony  places,  kicking  furiously  at 
the  flints  of  convention.  Win  their  confidence,  and 
they  will  confess  that  the  shoes  provided  by  their 
sires  were  too  tight.  Accordingly,  they  discarded 
them  at  the  first  opportunity.  As  a  rule,  they  go 
without  shoes  to  the  end  of  their  days  —  which  are 
not  very  long  in  the  land  of  the  West.  You  meet 
them  everywhere :  beachcombing  by  the  summer 
seas  of  the  Pacific,  tending  bar,  selling  cigars,  herd- 
ing sheep;  and  on  most  of  them  is  the  brand  of 
Drink. 

The  fortune-hunter,  on  the  other  hand,  is  always 
well-shod  in  boots  cut  by  a  crack  London  crafts- 
man ;  and  he  shuns  the  wilderness  as  he  would  a 
poor  relation.  His  credentials  are  his  clothes  and 
his  impudence.  It  may  be  said  of  his  impudence 
that  it  passes  all  understanding  and  endures  for 

12 


178    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

ever.  If  this  gentleman  bears  a  small  handle  to 
his  name,  his  ultimate  success  is  almost  certain. 
This  is  curious,  for  Western  women  are  not  snobs 
nor  vulgar  (till  they  settle  down  in  England,  where 
they  soon  catch  the  national  disease),  and  the 
obvious  fact  that  our  fortune-hunter  has  not  been 
able  to  secure  a  mate  in  his  own  country  would  — 
one  would  suppose  —  discolour  his  reputation.  Not 
at  all.  He  anticipates  comment  by  maintaining 
that  the  English  Miss  is  dull,  dowdy,  and  impos- 
sible. When  the  daughter  of  the  West  marries  the 
fellow  and  follows  him  to  England,  she  soon  learns 
that  the  English  Miss  is  often  dull,  sometimes 
dowdy,  and  always  impossible  —  to  the  wrong  man. 

One  girl  with  a  sense  of  humour  and  great  expec- 
tations from  a  rich  father  told  me  an  amusing  story. 
A  fortune-hunter  paid  her  attentions  and  finally 
entreated  her  —  as  she  put  it  to  me  —  to  provide 
him  with  a  permanent  home.  "  But,"  she  protested, 
"  I  understand  that  you  are  engaged,  or  as  good  as 
engaged,  to  another  young  woman."  The  fellow 
smiled  reassuringly.  "  Don't  let  that  trouble  youl' 
he  replied.  Six  weeks  later,  notwithstanding  the 
snubbing  he  got  from  the  heiress,  he  proposed  again. 
"But  you  are  not  free  to  offer  me  marriage,"  she 
remarked;  "you  are  still  engaged  to  that  girl." 
Nothing  daunted,  the  seeker  after  good  board  and 
lodging  replied  once  more:  "And  I  tell  you  now, 
what  I  told  you  then  —  don't  worry.  That  little 
affair  can  he  easily  arranged ! "  "  So  can  this," 
retorted  she.  "Don't  you  dare,  sir,  to  come  near 
me,  or  to  speak  to  me  again." 

I  have  nothing  to  say  against  the  belted  earl 


The  Englishman  in  the  West      179 

(with  nothing  left  but  his  belt)  who  can  offer  a 
woman  rank  and  position  in  exchange  for  her 
shekels.  And  who  will  throw  even  a  pebble  at 
the  girl  to  whom  getting  the  best  of  everything 
regardless  of  cost  is  a  vital  instinct,  the  girl  who 
justifies  her  upbringing  by  buying  as  husband  the 
most  expensive  article  in  the  market  ?  Such  matches 
turn  out  indifferently  well,  because,  as  a  rule,  the 
contracting  parties  are  under  no  delusion  in  regard 
to  the  nature  of  the  bargain.  The  adventurer  I 
speak  of  has  nothing  to  offer  an  heiress  except  him- 
self:  goods,  it  is  true,  upon  which  he  places  an 
extravagant  valuation,  but  goods  invariably  more 
or  less  damaged.  Most  of  these  gentlemen  assume 
a  military  style  and  title.  They  have  been  Cap- 
tains in  crack  regiments.  But  it  is  indiscreet  to 
ask  these  warriors  the  names  of  their  corps,  or 
indeed  any  questions  concerning  the  past;  and 
what  information  they  do  give  in  regard  to  such 
matters  needs  more  than  a  pinch  of  salt.  The  big 
hotels  are  the  happy  hunting  grounds  of  these 
sportsmen ;  and  it  is  not  easy  for  an  American  man 
to  keep  calm  when  he  sees  them  firing  —  so  to 
speak  —  into  the  "  brown  "  :  missing  many,  of  course, 
wounding  a  few,  and  bringing  to  bag  perhaps  one 
pretty  bird  who  deserves  a  happier  fate.  It  is 
comic  —  were  it  not  tragic  —  to  study  their  meth- 
ods. Listening  to  the  Captain,  one  might  even 
infer  that  the  American  girl  is  not  quite  good 
enough  for  one  who  has  worn  her  Britannic  Majes- 
ty's livery.  This  attitude  is  the  master-key  which 
unlocks  the  hearts  of  the  fair.  Some  of  the  gilded 
girls  are  sensible  that  a  plain  citizen  who  cannot 


i8o    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

ride  to  hounds  or  shoot  driven  grouse,  who  bears 
no  crest  and  wears  no  livery,  is  unworthy  of  them ; 
accordingly,  when  they  meet  a  man  who  in  his 
turn  mounts  the  pedestal,  they  look  up  to  worship, 
instead  of  looking  down  to  despise. 

The  Moral  Idiot  is  sent  abroad  because  England 
is  too  right  and  tight  a  place  for  him.  In  the  West 
he  finds  a  climate  and  a  people  more  adapted  to 
his  idiosyncracies.  If  you  wish  to  play  the  dog  in 
England,  well-meaning  friends  insist  on  the  muzzle 
and  the  chain.     In  the  West  you  can  run  riot. 

I  remember  a  man  who  charmed  the  good  and 
bad  of  his  acquaintance  by  his  geniality  and  fine 
presence.  He  was  the  son  of  an  officer  in  a  crack 
regiment,  and  although  he  had  failed  to  pass  into 
Sandhurst,  he  had  taken  high  honours  as  a  bachelor 
of  those  arts  which  please  everybody  except  per- 
haps the  Army  Examiners.  This  one  raced  down 
the  slopes  of  Avernus !  He  was  so  big  and  so 
powerful  that  those  of  his  fellow-countrymen  who 
tried  to  stop  him  were  simply  knocked  head  over 
heels,  or  else  were  constrained  to  follow  him.  But 
we  hoped  that  he  would  pull  up  before  he  reached 
the  bottom,  because  he  was  so  cheery,  so  generous, 
so  plucky,  and  because  —  strongest  argument  of  all 

—  he  had  such  nice  people,  whose  very  photographs 

—  so  to  speak  —  were  letters  of  credit.  Now  the 
photographs  of,  let  us  say  the  Family  Fool's  nearest 
and  dearest  are  generally  kept  under  lock  and  key. 
Poor  Johnnie,  with  all  his  stupidity  and  simplicity, 
is  dimly  aware  that  he  cannot  digest  his  husks  be- 
neath the  reproachful  eyes  of  those  fond  angels, 
his  mother  and  sisters;  so  he  lays  their  portraits. 


The  Englishman  in  the  West      i8i 

face  downwards,  at  the  bottom  of  his  portmanteau, 
where  he  cannot  see  them,  nor  they  him.  But  our 
Moral  Idiot  was  afflicted  with  no  such  sentimental 
scruples.  His  photographs  stood  —  blushing,  so  it 
seemed  to  me  —  upon  the  mantelpiece  of  his  room, 
whence  they  witnessed  many  a  shameful  scene ;  and 
beside  them  were  other  pictures  of  other  women 
(although  one  might  ask  Heaven  if  they  were  in 
truth  of  the  same  sex) ;  and  seeing  this  it  was 
obvious  that  nothing  would  suffice  to  stop  the  run- 
away, that,  morally  speaking,  he  was  dead.  Not 
long  after  his  body  died  also. 

The  Eemittance  Man  is  the  curse  of  all  new; 
countries,  although  in  a  sense  he  is  nobody's  enemy  | 
but  his  own.  The  monthly  dole  he  receives  from 
home  serves  to  keep  his  body,  but  it  plays  havoc 
with  his  soul.  As  a  rule  the  remittance  is  squan- 
dered within  three  days ;  and  then  follows  a  period 
of  incubation,  perhaps  of  repentance,  during  which 
the  poor  fellow  lies  snug  on  his  ranch,  or  in  his 
squalid  room,  if  his  tastes  be  urban.  The  homes 
(?)  of  the  remittance  men  are  curiously  alike ;  an 
epitome,  in  fact,  of  the  men  themselves.  If  the 
remittance  man  be  still  young,  a  ranchero  of  three 
years'  standing,  you  will  note  in  and  around  his 
cabin  the  half-effaced  signs  of  labour ;  a  garden  full 
of  weeds,  a  cypress  fence  untrimmed,  white-washed 
outbuildings  now  stained  and  discoloured,  but  once 
as  clean  and  bright  as  the  steel  bits  and  stirrups 
which  our  friend  brought  from  home.  If  you  are 
of  a  curious  turn  of  mind,  the  dust-heap  at  the 
back  is  worth  exploring.  The  upper  strata  reveal 
a  sorry  collection  of  tomatoes  and  sardine  cans; 


'^ 


1 82    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

but  stir  the  heap  to  its  depths  and  you  will  find 
terrines  and  glass  jars;  the  empty  flesh-pots  of 
Egypt,  —  relics  of  those  happy  days  when  Jim  — 
many  remittance  men  are  called  Jim,  —  had  hope 
in  his  heart  and  cash  at  his  bankers.  In  this 
heap,  too,  are  many  bottles:  from  the  aristocratic 
flask  of  maraschino  to  the  plebeian  pint  of  stout. 
Jim  will  inform  you  with  honest  pride  that  he 
knows  how  to  do  himself  well.  Inside  his  house, 
a  three  room  board-and-batten  shanty,  is  a  dismal 
collection  of  household  effects,  and  if  you  are  easily 
shocked,  it  would  be  prudent  not  to  enter  the 
kitchen.  For  Jim  never  washes  up  unless  he  is 
expecting  company,  and  you  have  caught  him  nap- 
ping, for  he  is  never  so  happy  as  when  asleep. 
He  will  be  sure  to  ask  you  to  have  a  drink  out 
of  the  demijohn  that  stands  in  the  corner  of  the 
sitting-room,  and,  warmed  by  whisky,  he  may  re- 
late some  of  his  misadventures.  He  planted  out 
an  orchard  of  Bartlett  pears,  but  the  jack-rabbits 
barked  and  destroyed  his  trees;  he  then  planted 
alfalfa,  which  the  gophers  ate;  then  he  bought 
some  Jersey  cows,  and  that  year  his  pasture  was 
accidentally  fired  and  all  the  feed  burnt  up.  You 
will  note  that  Jim,  and  the  gentlemen  like  Jim, 
generally  begin  with  some  enterprise  that  exacts 
special  knowledge  (which  they  don't  possess), 
patience,  and  hard  work.  They  try  to  run  before 
they  can  crawl.  It  is  a  kindness  to  turn  the  talk 
into  the  domain  of  sport,  for  Jim  cleans  his  gun, 
if  he  cleans  nothing  else,  and  he  generally  owns 
a  handy  dog  who  lies  at  his  master's  feet  and  is 
the   best  company   that  Jim   keeps.       Jim's    eye 


The  Englishman  in  the  West      183 

brightens  as  he  speaks  of  the  quail  and  ducks,  and 
he  will  tell  you  that  he  and  a  pal  are  thinking 
seriously  of  shooting  for  the  market  next  winter, 
only  he  will  add  it  is  "a  beastly  grind  shipping 
your  birds  in  good  condition."  Most  things  are 
"a  beastly  grind"  to  Jim  and  his  friends.  They 
keep  no  cow,  because  a  cow  must  be  driven  in  from 
the  pasture  and  milked  twice  a  day.  You  will 
mark  few  hens  about  the  barn,  for  Jim  will  tell 
you  that,  in  a  country  where  coyotes  and  coons  are 
many,  it  is  necessary  to  lock  up  your  hens  each 
night  in  a  marauder-proof  hen-house.  And  that, 
too,  is  a  "  beastly  grind."  Poor  Jim  blushes  through 
his  tanned  skin  when  he  asks  you  to  stop  and  take 
pot-luck  with  him.  Presently  he  retires  into  the 
kitchen,  and  you  are  left  alone  in  his  sitting-room. 
Here  you  will  be  sure  to  mark  a  curious  assortment 
of  old  clothes,  boots,  a  few  books,  a  hunting-crop, 
some  English  illustrated  papers  and  magazines  sent 
regularly  to  Jim  by  his  kind  sisters  and  aunts  at 
home,  and  many  pipes.  Upon  most  of  these  arti- 
cles lies  the  dust  of  the  West:  that  fine  sand 
which  drifts  invisibly  into  everything  —  even  into 
the  hearts  of  men  like  Jim.  You  feel,  perhaps, 
that  you  would  like  to  buy  a  broom,  to  sweep  and 
garnish,  but  your  labour  would  be  wasted.  Dust, 
the  dun  dust  of  life,  settles  thick  upon  the  Eemit- 
tance  Man.  And  he  —  this  is  the  pathetic  part  of 
it  —  does  not  care.  He  has  sold  the  birthright  of 
a  gentleman :  the  right  to  be  well-groomed  in  body 
and  mind,  for  a  —  remittance. 

While  you  sit  dreaming  by  the  hearth,  Jim  has 
found  a  few  eggs,  and  cooked  a  meal  that  tastes 


1 84    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

better  than  it  looks.  He  has  made  some  tortillas 
(pancakes)  and  the  stew  is  excellent.  Jim  has  a 
huge  pot  into  which  he  puts  his  game,  some  toma- 
toes, an  onion  or  two,  and  a  double  handful  of  rice. 
It  is  needless  to  add  that  a  remittance  man  has  no 
garden  of  his  own.  His  vegetables  are  given  to  him 
by  his  neighbours,  humble  hard-working  folk  to 
whom  Jim  is  a  sealed  fountain  of  mystery.  They 
cannot  understand  how  it  comes  to  pass  that  a 
"  high-toned,  highly -educated,  English  gentleman  " 
is  content  —  like  the  fat  weed  on  Lethe's  wharf  — 
to  rot  at  ease,  when,  if  he  chose  to  exert  mind  and 
muscles,  a  life  of  honourable  endeavour  lies  within 
his  grasp.  But  then  they  know  nothing  of  the 
vampire  which  sucks  from  Jim's  veins  the  good  red 
blood  of  every  ambition.  Let  cruel  charity  fasten 
her  fangs  in  their  throats,  and  they  too  would 
shrivel  into  paupers  and  parasites.  Take  from  Jim 
his  dole,  force  him  to  work,  and  he  may  attain  unto 
the  full  stature  of  a  man. 

As  a  rule  remittance  men  live  in  a  small  colony 
of  their  own.  Co-operation  is  no  empty  word  to 
them ;  it  spells  a  little  polo,  a  little  golf,  billiards, 
cards,  and  so  forth.  Play  with  these  fellows  is  the 
serious  business  of  life,  and  yet  they  talk  glibly 
enough  of  their  work!  What  a  queer  smack  the 
word  has  in  their  mouths  ! 

I  remember  a  trio,  whom  my  brother  and  I  (we 
were  reading  "Trilby")  used  to  call  — les  trois  Aug- 
liches.  Arm  in  arm  they  would  parade  up  and 
down  a  broad  road  that  had  no  beginning  and  no 
end.  It  was  not  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  length,  but 
smooth  and  level  as  an  ivory  tablet.     High  cliffs. 


The  Englishman  in  the  West      185 

almost  but  not  quite  inaccessible,  lay  to  the  north 
and  south  ;  to  the  east  was  a  summer  sea ;  to  the 
north,  running  the  length  of  the  road,  a  number  of 
gay  booths  flanked  a  huge  hotel.  You  could  not 
wish  for  a  brighter,  more  mirthful,  fresher  scene 
than  this  road  presents  in  the  middle  of  July ;  for 
it  is  Pleasure's  Eialto,  where  the  weary  workers  of 
Southern  California  come  for  a  too  brief  holiday. 
It  is,  in  effect,  all  that  is  left  of  the  lotos  land. 
And  here  the  busy  bodies  of  the  Pacific  Slope  find, 
what  they  so  sorely  need,  rest  and  recreation.  But 
we  never  saw  the  three  remittance  men  strolling 
leisurely  from  booth  to  booth,  turning  and  return- 
ing, inhaling  and  exhaling  the  essence  of  the  place, 
inspecting  its  simple  wares,  tasting  and  savouring 
its  cakes  and  ales,  without  reflecting  that  they  were 
not  visitors  but  prisoners  in  this  pleasance :  hug- 
ging their  chains  it  is  true,  but  none  the  less  — 
captives.  Did  they,  I  wonder,  turn  sometimes  a 
wistful  glance  to  the  cliffs  ?  Who  can  tell  ?  They 
had  their  share  of  brains ;  they  had  been  educated 
at  famous  schools ;  they  came  of  good  stock.  And 
not  one  of  them  was  fit  to  black  the  boots  of  an 
honest  ploughboy. 

Perhaps  the  Sportsman  is  the  best  type  of  Eng- 
lishman who  comes  to  the  East,  always  excepting 
those  distinguished  travellers  —  diplomats,  officers 
of  the  Army  and  Navy,  and  the  like  —  who  merely 
flit  through  the  country  on  their  way  to  Australia 
and  the  Far  East.  He  belongs  to  the  upper  and 
upper-middle  classes ;  and  as  a  rule  has  the  tall, 
slender,  wiry  figure  of  the  man  inured  to  hardships, 
the  man  who  can  ride,  or  shoot,  or  fish,  all  day  and 


1 86    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

every  day,  and  be  none  the  worse  for  it.  These 
Nimrods  acquire  a  knowledge  of  the  West  at  first 
hand.  They  see  many  phases  of  life ;  they  talk 
with  rich  and  poor,  with  gentle  and  simple,  with 
honest  men  and  knaves.  Living  themselves  the 
primal  life  for  many  months,  facing  boldly  the 
perils  of  the  wilderness,  apprehending,  as  they  must, 
the  obstacles  that  confront  the  pioneer,  they  can 
and  do  assimilate  the  facts,  —  those  facts  so  indiges- 
tible to  the  traveller  who  sees  a  new  country  through 
the  windows  of  a  Pullman  drawing-room  car.  More, 
leaving  the  wilderness  they  approach  civilisation 
by  degrees,  passing  over  the  trackless  forest,  then 
the  blazed  trail,  then  the  foot-path,  the  rude  coun- 
try road,  the  highway,  and  lastly  the  shining 
rails. 

The  Native  Son  can  never  quite  understand  why 
these  thin,  sun-scorched,  silent  men  take  all  that 
concerns  sport  so  very  seriously ;  they  wonder  how 
such  men,  possessed  of  energy,  patience,  powers  of 
endurance,  can  hold  themselves  aloof  from  the 
traffic  of  the  world.  And  it  takes  an  Englishman, 
and  a  lover  of  sport,  to  answer  the  question.  To 
those  to  whom  "  the  long  results  of  time "  are  an 
inheritance,  there  comes  a  nostalgia  for  life  under 
new  and  more  stirring  conditions.  The  war  of  great 
cities,  the  ignominies  and  indignities  of  the  modern 
struggle  for  money,  or  fame,  or  bread,  drive  them 
into  the  silent  lands,  into  the  enchanting  solitudes 
of  mountain  and  forest.  Let  it  be  remembered  that 
these  men  have  enough  money,  and  the  striving  for 
more  may  mean  the  robbing  of  another.  From  this 
point  of  view,  their  abstention  becomes  surely  a 


The  Englishman  in  the  West      187 

virtue.  But  the  energies  inherited  from  fathers  who 
worked  hard  and  to  good  purpose  cannot  be  denied ; 
and  these  energies  sustain  the  explorer,  the  hunter, 
and  the  naturalist.  What  else  would  drive  a  man 
into  the  pestilential  swamps  of  equatorial  Africa,  or 
into  the  boreal  twilight  of  a  sub-arctic  forest  ? 


XI 

THE  SIDE-SHOW 


XI 

THE  SIDE-SHOW 

THE  side-show  of  a  big  three-ring  circus,  where 
you  may  view  at  your  ease  and  leisure  the 
freaks,  is  to  my  mind  more  amusing  than  the  show 
itself ;  for  nowadays  the  senses  are  stunned  by  the 
ordered  confusion  of  a  triple  entertainment.  In  like 
manner  the  thoroughfares  of  modern  life  have  be- 
come so  crowded  and  noisy  that  one  turns  with  a 
sigh  of  relief  into  the  alleys  and  byways  that  run 
to  and  from  them. 

Americans,  I  believe,  have  a  keener  appreciation 
of  what  they  call  "  the  side-show  "  than  we.  Per- 
haps in  a  new  country  there  are  more  side-shows, 
but  I  doubt  it.  I  know  of  a  cathedral  town  in  the 
south  of  England  where  four  great  classes  live 
cheek  by  jowl :  the  military,  the  Dean  and  Chap- 
ter and  clergy,  the  masters  and  boys  of  a  great 
public  school,  and  the  ordinary  townsfolk.  By 
those  who  like  to  bet  on  certainties,  a  sum  might 
be  wagered  that  here  within  the  shadow  of  four 
ancient  institutions  could  be  found  more  side-shows 
than  in  any  city  of  the  West;  only  you  would 
have  to  search  for  them  patiently.  In  the  West 
the  side-show  is  on  the  side-walk !  Take,  for  in- 
stance, the  side-shows  of  religion :  Theosophy,  Spirit- 
ualism, Christian  Science,  and  the  like.  In  England 
these    entertainments    are  —  so    to    speak  —  not 


192    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

licensed  by  the  Lord  Chamberlain,  but  in  America, 
and  particularly  in  the  West,  you  can  dance  the 
hula-hula  upon  the  tables  of  stone,  and  none  will 
interfere. 

Since  the  exposure  of  Madame  Blavatzky,  Theoso- 
phists  have  split  up  into  camps  :  those  who  still 
believe  in  the  priestess  of  Isis,  and  those  who  don't. 
The  priestess,  it  will  be  remembered,  unveiled  Isis ; 
then  in  her  turn  she  was  unveiled,  and  the  veil  of 
mystery  that  encompassed  a  most  remarkable  woman 
was  rent  in  twain.  Eeading  the  evidence  of  fraud 
that  was  submitted,  it  would  seem  incredible  that 
any  sane  person  should  still  believe  in  Madame 
Blavatzky,  but  so  it  is.  Theosophy,  however,  being 
esoteric  in  its  teaching,  appeals  to  the  few;  whereas 
Spiritualism  appeals  to  the  many,  the  many  who  — 
as  the  immortal  Barnum  observed  —  like  to  be 
humbugged.  It  is  true,  of  course,  that  a  counterfeit 
coin  does  not  impeach  the  value  of  the  gold  piece, 
but  the  most  ardent  Spiritualist  will  not  deny  that 
the  bad  coins  have  had  an  enormous  circulation. 
Much  of  the  so-called  phenomena  of  Spiritualism 
has  been  explained  by  science,  a  little  still  remains 

—  inexplicable.  But  the  men  of  science  who  have 
given  the  subject  attention,  assert  that  science  will 
reveal  what  is  now  hidden  and  will  do  it  without 
the  assistance  of  spirits.  The  Homes  and  Slades 
and  other  wizards  who  fairly  enchanted  alike  be- 
lievers and  sceptics  have  been  proved  charlatans ; 
but  the  mediums  who  advertise  in  the  newspapers 

—  unselfish  women,  for  the  most  part,  who,  remain- 
ing poor  themselves  (their  fee  is  only  a  dollar),  de- 
vote their  lives  to  making  others  rich  —  increase 


The  Side-Show  193 

and  multiply.  To  certain  minds  the  psychic  powers 
of  the  seventh  daughter  of  a  seventh  daughter  born 
with  a  caul  are  incontestable. 

The  number  of  mediums,  clairvoyants,  astrolo- 
gers, and  palmists  in  San  Francisco  alone  is  most 
significant.  One  cannot  doubt  that  curiosity  is  the 
besetting  sin  of  the  mob,  but  beyond  and  above  it 
lies  the  worship  of  the  visible  rather  than  the  in- 
visible. The  mob  does  wish  to  put  its  fingers  into 
the  wounds,  to  see,  to  hear,  and  to  feel.  The  curi- 
osity that  drives  some  sorrow-stricken  soul  to  the 
*'  parlours  "  of  an  illiterate  stranger  to  learn  news, 
however  small,  of  the  one  who  has  passed  into  the 
world  unseen  may  be  condemned,  but  it  is  at  least 
human  and  intelligible.  And  if  proof  of  immor- 
tality is  to  be  vouchsafed  us  from  one  whom  we 
would  not  deem  fit  to  dine  at  our  table,  or  even  be 
included  in  the  circle  of  our  casual  acquaintances, 
shall  we  refuse  it  on  that  account  ?  Here  is  a  ques- 
tion which  each  must  answer  for  himself.  In  the 
West  it  would  seem  that  in  some  wells  not  Truth 
is  found,  but  carbonic  acid  gas.  But  the  motives 
that  drive  the  mob  to  the  ladies  I  have  mentioned 
are  not  always  so  ingenuous.  Many  seek  them  for 
the  most  sordid  reasons:  for  advice  in  regard  to 
investments  and  speculative  enterprises,  for  love 
philtres,  for,  in  effect,  a  special  knowledge  of  the 
future  which  they,  the  seekers  after  an  unknown 
god,  may  transmute  into  dollars  and  cents. 

The  Christian  Scientists,  however,  are  cutting  the 
ground  from  beneath  the  feet  of  the  Theosophists 
and  Spiritualists.  I  have  carefully  read  Mrs.  Mary 
Eddy's  book,  "  Health  and  Science,"  and  was  not 


194    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

surprised  to  find  that  the  good  and  the  tender  and 
the  true,  which  illumine  so  many  of  its  pages,  have 
been  taken  from  the  New  Testament.  Indeed  one 
might  say  of  "  Health  and  Science  "  what  was  said 
by  a  wit  of  another  book  :  "  There  is  much  that  is 
new  in  it,  and  much  that  is  true  ;  only  what  is  new 
is  not  true,  and  what  is  true  is  not  new."  Mrs. 
Eddy  bottles  the  wine  of  Christ  and  sells  it  under 
her  own  label.  The  metaphysics  in  the  book  were 
made  long  ago  in  Germany.  And  the  stories  of  the 
miracles  would  astonish  all  of  us  were  we  not 
familiar  with  what  is  going  on  at  Lourdes,  and 
Sainte  Anne  d'Auray,  and  a  dozen  other  places. 
According  to  Mrs.  Eddy  and  her  school,  matter  is 
not;  Berkeley  also  said  there  was  no  such  thing 
as  matter,  and  the  wits  retorted  that  in  that  case  it 
did  not  matter  what  he  said.  I  have  met  many 
Christian  Scientists,  and  I  have  noted  that  matter 
is  not  when,  and  when  only,  there  is  nothing  really 
serious  the  matter.  If  the  child  of  a  woman  pro- 
fessing Christian  Science  happens  to  be  bitten  by  a 
rattlesnake,  you  will  find  that  she  sends  hot-foot  for 
the  nearest  doctor,  and  the  antidote  he  prescribes  is 
administered  promptly.  There  is  a  profane  story 
about  a  man  tormented  by  toothache ;  the  sufferer 
was  assured  by  a  Christian  Scientist  (the  name 
challenges  a  smile,  because  Christian  Science  is 
endorsed  by  neither  orthodox  Christians  nor  men  of 
science)  that  he  was  the  victim  of  his  imagination, 
that  if  he  would  sit  still  and  allow  his  mind  to 
dwell  upon  the  true  substance  of  life,  what  has 
been  wrongly  termed  the  idealities,  weening  it  from 
the  trivial  shadow,  his  throbbing  molar,  he  would 


The  Side-Show  195 

infallibly  become  sane  and  whole.  The  sufferer 
was  willing  enough  to  try  the  experiment,  and  did 
sit  silent  and  absorbed  for  nearly  half  an  hour.  At 
the  end  of  that  time  the  Christian  Scientist  asked 
sweetly  how  he  felt.  "  I  feel,  Madam,"  he  replied, 
"  like  a  damn  fool." 

The  men  of  the  West  owe  much  to  Mrs.  Eddy, 
for  her  teaching  has  wrought  some  wonderful  cures 
amongst  anaemic,  hysterical,  drug-poisoned  women. 
A  physician  told  me  that  Christian  Science  was 
a  specific  for  nervous  affections.  He  also  told  me 
that  a  colleague  of  his,  an  Agnostic,  had  been  treat- 
ing a  Catholic  patient  for  one  of  those  obscure 
lesions  to  which  female  flesh  is  heir,  and  that, 
despite  his  efforts,  the  patient  had  steadily  grown 
worse.  But  she  was  quite  confident  that  if  only 
she  could  visit  Lourdes,  her  health  would  be  mirac- 
ulously restored.  The  doctor  gravely  and  truth- 
fully assured  her  that  in  his  opinion  holy  water  of 
Our  Lady  would  wash  away  her  infirmities ;  and,  as 
it  was  impossible  for  the  patient  to  undertake  a 
journey  overseas  of  some  seven  thousand  miles,  he 
begged  her  to  send  for  some  of  the  water,  which  the 
lady  did ;  and,  having  absolute  faith  in  the  elixir, 
recovered  her  health  and  strength  ! 

It  is  curious  to  mark  in  a  new  country  that  men 
run  after  strange  gods  as  soon  as  they  forsake  the 
faith  that  sustained  their  fathers,  but  we  are  con- 
cerned now  not  with  ethics  but  side-shows.  Per- 
haps the  side-show  is  more  amusing  when  one 
individual  occupies  the  stage.  This  was  emphati- 
cally the  case  with  Richard  Hobson,  the  hero  of 
the  Merrimac,  better  known  perhaps  as  the  Hero 


196    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

of  the  Merry  Smack.  After  his  achievement  he 
was  turned  into  a  side-show.  As  one  of  the  news- 
papers put  it:  "The  American  women  are  trying 
to  make  a  star-spangled  ass  out  of  our  national 
hero;"  and  the  women  came  perilously  near  to 
doing  so.  The  hero  was  kissed  into  exile,  it  was 
said ;  and  at  one  place  more  than  two  hundred  and 
fifty  fair  adorers  stood  in  line,  and  patiently  and 
rapturously  awaited  their  turn  to  be  embraced. 
Lieutenant  Hobson  accepted  this  homage  with  an 
humble  and  grateful  heart;  but  one  hardly  likes 
to  think  what  would  happen  if  similar  sweet  cour- 
tesies were  offered  to  Admiral  Dewey  or  to  Sir 
Redvers  Buller. 

Hobson,  willy-nilly,  was  made  a  side-show ;  Joa- 
quin Miller,  the  poet  of  the  Sierras,  made  himself 
one:  surely  a  greater  offence.  It  will  hardly  be 
believed  in  England  that  this  man,  who  has  written 
some  of  the  finest  poetry  in  the  English  language, 
should  join  a  variety  show  and  exhibit  himself 
nightly,  in  costume,  to  all  comers.  One  would  as 
soon  expect  to  see  an  archbishop  dancing  the  horn- 
pipe in  Eatcliff  Highway. 

There  are  many  side-shows.  The  word  is  often 
used  to  express  an  isolated  sense  of  the  ridiculous. 
A  person  in  our  county  was  preaching  on  behalf 
of  Total  Abstinence.  To  clinch  his  argument,  he 
cited  the  case  of  his  own  father  who  had  destroyed 
a  vineyard  in  full  bearing  rather  than  make  wine 
of  the  grapes.  We  were  profoundly  affected  by 
this,  and  felt  that  it  was  a  privilege  to  sit  at  the 
feet  of  such  a  man's  son.  Some  weeks  later,  this 
parson  was  in  the  office  of  a  friend  of  mine,  and  the 


The  Side-Show  197 

talk  turned  upon  Calif ornian  wines.  **As  a  matter 
of  fact,"  said  the  parson,  "most  of  the  vineyards 
now  in  full  bearing  don't  pay,  because  the  wrong 
varieties  were  planted  out.  My  poor  father  made 
that  mistake,  and  he  was  forced  to  root  up  every 
vine."  My  friend  told  me  this  story  (he  had  heard, 
of  course,  the  sermon),  and  I  asked  him  if  he  had 
allowed  the  parson  to  escape  without  a  word  of  pro- 
test. "  If  I  had  let  him  know  that  I  heard  his  ser- 
mon I  should  have  spoiled  the  side-show.  Now 
whenever  we  meet  I  shall  have  it  all  to  myself." 
I  remember  another  story,  told  to  me  by  a 
gambler.  A  gambler  in  the  West  is  higher  by 
a  few  rungs  of  the  social  ladder  than  the  white- 
coated  gentleman  who  dispenses  drinks  across  a 
bar.  I  gleaned  this  important  fact  from  a  bar- 
tender many  years  ago.  I  had  asked  if  a  certain 
friend  of  his  tended  bar.  "  What ! "  he  exclaimed, 
"  tend  bar  ?  Not  on  your  life.  He  plays  —  keerds." 
My  gambler  was  a  character,  as  indeed  are  most  of 
these  knights  of  the  green  cloth ;  and  he  was  not 
averse  to  relating  -—  to  sympathetic  ears  —  his  ad- 
ventures by  land  and  sea.  He  had  heard,  it  seems, 
that  a  notorious  poker-player  had  taken  passage 
upon  a  certain  steamer,  where  high  play  was  not 
forbidden  (as  it  is  to-day  on  nearly  all  steamship 
lines).  Billy  (my  friend)  wishing  to  shiver  a  lance 
with  this  champion  also  booked  his  passage,  and 
so  in  due  time  Greek  met  Greek.  "  Of  course,"  said 
Billy,  in  telling  the  story,  "  I  played  'possum,  and 
Mister  Man  had  n't  a  notion  that  I  knew  the  very 
first  thing  about  poker ;  but  he  did  know  that  I  had 
about  four  thousand  dollars  in  my  inside  pocket 


198    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

and  I  saw,  by  the  fire  in  his  eye,  that  he  meant  in 
due  time  to  annex  'em.  We  played  several  games 
before  he  went  to  work;  and  he  allowed  me  to 
win  most  of  his  small  change.  Well,  sir,  about 
the  fourth  day,  after  dinner,  he  asked  me  to  share 
a  bottle  o'  wine  "  (champagne)  "  with  him ;  and  after 
that  he  said  he  felt  like  a  little  game,  and  I  told 
him  that  I  was  with  him,  and  that  I  'd  never  felt 
more  like  a  winner  —  which  was  so.  Four  of  us  sat 
down,  and  we  fooled  away  about  two  hours.  Dur- 
ing that  time  I  had  collected  the  six,  seven,  eight, 
nine,  and  ten  of  diamonds.  I  took  no  face  cards, 
for  I  knew  he  'd  miss  them  in  his  shuffle.  Pres- 
ently he  dealt  me  three  Jacks,  and  in  the  draw  he 
got  the  fourth.  He  could  play  poker,  that  feller, 
for  although  I  was  watching  him  close  I  could  n't 
see  any  monkey  business.  Pretty  soon  only  him 
and  me  was  left  in,  and  the  pot  was  a  big  one. 
*  You  'd  better  quit,'  said  he,  pleasantly,  *  my  hand 
is  a  corker.  I  know  how  to  deal,  my  boy,  and  it 
will  cost  you  one  thousand  dollars  to  gaze  on  my 
hand.'  He  was  quite  the  gentleman,  and  I  played 
up  to  him.  *You  are  not  a  good  dealer,'  said  I, 
« for  you  've  given  me  a  better  hand  than  yours  ;  so 
although  I  hate  to  take  a  friend's  money,  still  as 
you  insist,  I  '11  see  that  thousand  and  go  two  thous- 
and better.'  Two  minutes  after  there  was  eight 
thousand  in  the  pot  and  we  showed  down.  He 
had  four  aces,  and  when  I  spread  out  my  flush 
sequence  you'd  ought  to  have  seen  his  jaw  drop. 
He  took  his  medicine  without  a  whimper,  but  — 
Great  Scott !  —  that  face  of  his  was  a  —  side-show  ! " 
It  is  a  side-show  when  a  man  says  something 


The  Side-Show  199 

humourous,  being  himself  unconscious  that  he  is 
affording  amusement  to  others.  One  day  a  man 
came  into  our  office,  and  observed  in  the  course,  of 
conversation  that  he  was  about  to  take  a  little  holi- 
day :  "  My  brother-in-law,"  he  added,  "  is  a  mighty 
sick  man,  and  the  doctors  are  going  to  operate 
on  him.  It  will  kill  the  poor  fellow  sure."  My 
brother,  to  whom  he  was  speaking,  looked  sympa- 
thetic, but  the  man  seemed  to  enjoy  discussing  de- 
tails. In  conclusion  he  casually  observed :  "  Well, 
I'm  not  making  this  trip  for  'pleasure  only.  I 
hope  to  ring  in  a  little  business."  The  story  would 
be  funnier  if  one  substituted  mother-in-law  for 
brother-in-law,  but  I  have  told  the  tale  without 
embellishment. 

Alphonse  Daudet  (I  think)  said  that  he  had 
attended  many  amusing  funerals,  and  doubtless  he 
was  alluding  to  the  side-shows.  In  the  West  —  as 
I  have  already  pointed  out — the  funeral  has  often 
the  characteristics  of  the  wake.  I  remember  at- 
tending an  imposing  function  which  had  been  en- 
trusted to  the  Knight  Templars,  of  which  exalted 
order  the  departed  had  been  a  member  in  good 
standing.  The  Sir  Knights  attended  in  full  uni- 
form, and  the  exercises  —  as  they  are  called  —  took 
place  in  the  double  parlours  of  a  large  hotel.  The 
relations  and  intimate  friends  of  the  dead  man 
occupied  the  inner  parlour;  the  rest  of  us  sat  in 
the  outer.  At  a  certain  stage  in  the  proceedings 
the  officiating  minister  invited  those  of  us  who 
wished  "to  view  the  remains"  to  walk  into  the 
inner  room :  a  detestable  custom  that  still  prevails 
in  many  parts  of  America.     A  pair  of  female  ghouls 


200    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

promptly  availed  themselves  of  this  gruesome  op- 
portunity, and  while  they  were  absent  two  ladies 
came  in,  and,  seeing  the  vacant  chairs,  sat  quietly 
down  in  them.  Presently  the  ghouls  returned, 
glaring  at  the  intruders.  Finally,  one  of  them, 
giving  indignation  words,  said  in  a  loud  whisper: 
"Madam  —  these  are  our  chairs."  Now  chairs 
being  at  a  premium,  I  wondered  what  would  hap- 
pen. The  lady  who  was  addressed  looked  up 
and  smiled  blandly :  "  Your  chairs  ? "  she  repeated, 
sweetly.  "Oh,  dear,  no!  They  belong  to  the 
hotel." 

At  another  funeral  of  a  county  official  I  marked 
the  extravagant  grief  of  the  widow,  who  with  diffi- 
culty was  restrained  from  flinging  herself  into  the 
grave.  Speaking  of  this  afterwards  to  a  friend, 
he  said,  rather  brutally  I  thought :  "  That  was 
side-show.  I  know  that  woman.  She  has  made 
her  plans  already.  She  will  marry  again  within 
six  months."     She  married  again  in  three  months. 

This  appreciation  of  the  side-show  means  much 
to  the  people  who  live  in  the  West,  particularly  to 
those  who  live  in  the  towns  and  cities.  To  the 
average  man  of  business,  as  to  Dr.  Johnson,  a  green 
field  is  like  any  other  green  field ;  Brother  Jonathan 
has  no  stomach  for  Nature's  varied  bills  of  fare ; 
Bills  Payable  and  Receivable  engross  his  attention. 
But  he  studies  mankind  (not  womankind)  far  more 
closely  and  to  better  practical  purpose  than  John 
Bull,  and  the  study  brings  with  it  its  own  reward. 
Curiously  enough,  he  obeys  the  poet's  rather  than 
the  philosopher's  injunction.  His  knowledge  of 
others,  sound  though  it  be,  loses  much  of  its  value 


The  Side-Show  201 

because  study  of  himself,  that  intimate  self -analysis 
which  teaches  a  man  his  potentialities  and  limita- 
tions, has  been  neglected.  In  the  West  you  see 
many  men  floundering  in  a  quagmire  of  difficulties 
into  which  ignorance  of  their  own  powers  has 
enticed  them.  An  American  overrates  himself, 
whereas  the  Briton  underrates  others.  An  Ameri- 
can, again,  is  truly  thankful  and  grateful  to  those 
who  furnish  him  with  entertainment ;  the  English- 
man is  slightly  contemptuous.  In  England  the 
cap  and  bells  provoke  a  malicious  laugh ;  in  America 
a  kindly  smile ;  the  Englishman  is  so  morbidly 
afraid  of  making  a  fool  of  himself  that  he  is  often 
blind  to  the  fact  that  others  have  performed  that 
office  for  him ;  a  son  of  the  West  begins  by  making 
a  fool  of  himself,  and  thereafter  considers  himself 
entitled  to  make  a  fool  of  others. 

In  the  West  there  is  always  "side-show"  when- 
ever sickness  comes  to  a  family.  You  may  be  sure 
that  if  the  doctor  has  prescribed  plain  diet  for  a 
child  prostrated  by  a  bilious  attack,  some  fond 
sister  or  aunt  will  appear  at  the  bedside  with  a 
chicken  fricassee,  made  with  cream,  or  possibly  a 
frothing  cup  of  chocolate,  or  some  other  delicacy 
equally  unsuitable,  and  the  patient  is  allowed  to 
swallow  these  rich  foods  because,  if  he  did  n't,  the 
kind  cooks  would  feel  badly. 


XII 
POT-POURRI 


XII 

POT-POURRI 

IN  the  West  all  men,  women,  and  children  read 
the  daily  papers  —  between  the  lines ;  but  they 
want  the  lines  exaggerated,  particularly  the  head- 
lines, which  faithfully  interpreted  tell  the  busy  man 
all  that  he  cares  to  know.  I  shall  never  forget 
what  was  said  of  a  certain  governor  of  California  at 
the  time  of  the  great  strike  at  Sacramento.  The 
militia  had  been  called  out,  and  everybody  expected 
serious  trouble.  To  some,  civil  war  seemed  impend- 
ing ;  traffic  was  suspended ;  business  was  at  a  stand- 
still. During  this  crisis,  the  Chief  Executive,  for 
reasons  which  he  has  never  given  to  the  world,  was 
lying  safe  and  snug  at  his  country  place  in  the 
South,  pursuing  a  policy  of  what  may  have  seemed 
to  him  masterly  inactivity.  Commenting  upon  his 
absence,  one  of  the  big  San  Francisco  dailies  said 
in   the  editorial  column :   "  Oh,   what   a   tower   of 

strength  Governor  M has  been  to  the  State  of 

California  in  the  hour  of  her  need ! "  That  —  aiid 
nothing  more.  The  history  of  this  strike  is  a  con- 
crete example  of  the  contention  that  the  Press 
reflects  humourously  public  opinion,  a  mirror  of 
invisible  convexity  which  distorts  things  and  per- 
sons seen  therein.  On  the  Pacific  Slope  generally 
the  sympatliy  of  the  people  hovered  above  the 
strikers.     It  appeared  to  them  a  case  of  the  Man 


2o6    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

with  the  Dollar  versus  the  Man  with  the  Hoe.  Mr. 
Eugene  Debs,  who  posed  for  a  brief  season  as  the 
Napoleon  of  Labour,  and  his  staff  issued  the  most 
stirring  manifestoes,  and  more  than  one  thoughtful 
man  believed  that  a  certain  prediction  made  by  Mr. 
Herbert  Spencer  at  a  farewell  dinner  was  about  to 
come  to  pass.  I  cannot  quote  Mr.  Spencer,  but 
he  foresaw  the  vast  opportunities  which  a  dem- 
ocracy offers  to  the  man  who  can  play  popular  tunes 
upon  public  opinion.  Mr.  Debs  twanged  his  harp, 
and  America  listened  —  and  was  profoundly  affected. 
In  my  county,  it  was  hardly  safe  to  criticise  the 
music  or  the  musician.  Later,  writing  of  another 
man,  Mr.  Ambrose  Bierce  remarked  : 

"  He  fiddled  his  fiddle-did-dee 
Till  the  bows  and  the  strings 
Were  invisible  things  ; 
And  a  vibrant  blur  was  he." 

To  the  people  with  whom  1  came  in  contact,  people 
lacking  even  an  elementary  knowledge  of  the  prin- 
ciples of  political  economy,  Mr.  Debs  was  a  vibrant 
blur  upon  the  landscape.  What  had  heretofore 
been  clear  to  them  —  their  own  property  rights,  for 
instance  —  became  suddenly  obscured.  And  this 
obscurity  reflected  by  the  Press  became  a  pea-soup 
fog,  a  Cimmerian  darkness.  Fogs,  however,  even 
London  fogs,  eventually  lift.  A  brisk  breeze  from 
the  lungs  of  the  people  cleared  our  skies.  And 
why?  Because  some  ill-advised  wretches  derailed 
a  train.  No  matter  how  thick  a  fog  may  be,  if 
you  chance  to  stumble  over  a  dead  body  you  will 
know  it.     The  people  of  California  stumbled  blindly 


Pot-Pourri  207 

upon  a  corpse,  and,  lo!  the  scales  fell  from  their 
eyes.  In  a  jiffy  it  was  quite  obvious  to  the  mean- 
est understanding  that  innocent  blood  had  been 
wantonly  spilled,  that  a  shameful  and  brutal  deed 
had  been  done  beneath  the  flag  and  in  the  name 
of  Labour.  Coincident  with  this  1,400  cars  of  Cali- 
fornia fruit  were  side-tracked  in  Chicago,  and  the 
fruit  spoiled!  Instantly  the  common-sense  of  the 
public  asserted  itself.  As  quickly  the  Press  recorded 
the  fact.  Of  the  mob  of  gentlemen  who  write 
with  ease  what  they  are  told  to  write  hardly  one 
was  left  to  champion  the  cause  of  the  strikers,  and 
soon  after  Mr.  Debs  was  clapped  into  jail,  and  we 
heard  no  more  of  him.  It  was  the  sense  of  the 
West  that  he  had  not  only  fiddled  but  fuddled 
away  a  great  political  opportunity. 

There  are  some  people  West  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains who  take  the  Press  seriously.  One  gentleman 
I  know  fathered  a  bill  which  provided  for  the  justi- 
fiable slaughters  of  editors  by  those  whom  they  had 
lampooned.  No  doubt  the  gentleman  in  question 
had  suffered  much  and  often,  but  being  a  public 
man  he  ought  to  have  known  that  you  cannot  kill 
an  editor  with  a  bullet;  you  are  far  more  likely 
to  kill  yourself.  The  Press  received  the  bill  with 
intense  appreciation  of  its  ludicrous  aspect.  One 
wit  gravely  contended  that  all  newspaper  men  were 
fair  game,  but  he  demanded  a  close  season  —  say 
one  month  in  the  spring  —  wherein  the  brethren  of 
the  pen  might  increase  and  multiply  in  peace ! 
You  can  hoist  such  engineers  with  but  one  petard 
which  they  regard  as  peculiarly  their  own  —  ridi- 
cule.   A  story  went  the  round  of  the  newspapers 


2o8    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

about  a  poet  who  wrote  some  verses  entitled: 
"Why  do  I  live?"  The  editor  to  whom  they 
were  submitted  returned  them  with  these  lines: 
"  You  ask  the  question  —  Why  do  I  live  ?  We 
will  answer  it.  Because  you  sent  your  poem  to  us 
instead  of  bringing  it." 

The  Western  Press  exasperates  the  travelling 
Briton,  for  things  British  are  invariably  caricatured. 
On  the  French  stage  milor  is  always  presented 
with  big  protruding  teeth  and  long,  red  whiskers, 
what  were  once  known  as  Piccadilly  weepers. 
Without  these  credentials,  so  to  speak,  he  would 
not  be  accepted  or  recognised.  In  the  West  the 
people  know  nothing  about  England,  and  the  Press 
faithfully  records  that  ignorance. 

With  infinite  regret  I  state  as  my  profound  con- 
viction that  the  majority  of  persons  living  West 
of  the  Eocky  Mountains  rejoices  when  Britannia 
mourns.  Salt  it  as  you  will  (and  as  you  must) 
abuse  of  England  is  greedily  gobbled  up.  The 
demand  creates  the  supply,  a  fact  well  understood 
by  the  editors  of  newspapers.  The  statement  that 
a  Boer,  under  the  protection  of  the  white  flag,  has 
treacherously  shot  an  Englishman  is  branded  as  a 
lie  by  most  Western  journalists.  The  statement 
that  Tommy  Atkins  has  been  guilty  of  a  similar 
act  of  treachery  is  proclaimed  as  truth  —  despite 
the  testimony  of  such  witnesses  as  —  let  us  say  — 
Mr.  Julian  Kalph,  an  American.  A  clipping  lies 
before  me  as  I  write,  in  which  the  writer  says  that 
the  Boers  are  twice  as  brave  as  the  British  soldiers. 
Yet  the  American  correspondents  in  the  field  have 
all  testified  that  the  Boer  dare  not  face  the  British 


Pot-Pourri  209 

bayonet.  An  Englishman  would  make  no  insidious 
distinctions  between  Spanish  and  American  valour ; 
a  Westerner  wallows  in  odorous  comparison,  and 
the  stronger  the  odour  the  more  he  likes  it.  The 
word  "  hireling "  has  been  applied  again  and  again 
to  our  soldiers  most  offensively.  In  a  sense  they 
are  hirelings ;  so  were  Koosevelt's  rough-riders,  so 
are  the  Boers,  and  the  soldiers  of  every  nation  on 
earth.  The  use  of  such  adjectives  plainly  proves 
that  the  Western  man  in  his  heart  wishes  to  insult 
and  offend  Englishmen. 

It  is  time  therefore  that  England  understood 
that  the  vapourings  of  after-dinner  orators  upon 
the  unity  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race,  upon  blood 
being  thicker  than  water,  upon  our  kin  beyond  sea, 
and  so  forth,  are  so  much  smoke.  The  Americans 
are  not  Anglo-Saxon,  but  an  amalgam  of  Teuton, 
Kelt,  Latin,  Slav,  and  Anglo-Saxon.  We  happen 
to  speak  a  language  somewhat  similar  to  what 
passes  current  in  the  United  States ;  we  are  also 
Uncle  Sam's  best  customer  and  his  biggest  credi- 
tor ;  we  have  ideals  in  common ;  laws  in  common, 
Shakespeare  and  Milton  in  common ;  England  and 
America  have,  in  short,  what  has  been  called  a 
"  manifest  destiny "  to  work  (not  together  but 
apart)  for  that  which  makes  for  the  enlightenment 
of  the  world  and  the  progress  of  civilisation;  but 
we  are  not  brothers,  nor  cousins,  nor  good  friends 
—  and  that  is  the  naked  truth.  I  am  speaking  of 
the  Pacific  Slope,  although  I  am  of  opinion  that  in 
the  East  also  the  masses  are  hostile  to  England ; 
and  I  have  yet  to  meet  an  intelligent  Englishman 
who  has  lived  his  life  in  the  West  who  does  not 

14 


210    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

share  my  views  on  this  unhappy  subject.  On  the 
other  hand,  many  of  my  friends  in  the  West,  and 
those  connected  with  me  by  marriage,  contend  that 
no  Englishman  can  possibly  apprehend  the  spirit 
of  the  West,  and  that  "things"  —  as  Truthful 
James  would  say  —  "are  not  what  they  seem": 
that  deep  down  in  the  Western  heart  are  respect 
and  esteem  for  the  British  nation.  In  reply  I 
submit  that  this  sentiment  of  affection  is  so  deep 
down  that,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  it  is  absolutely 
out  of  sight. 

None  the  less  my  friends  may  be  right  when 
they  assert  that  the  majority  does  claim  kin  with 
us,  for  has  not  the  inimitable  Mr.  Dooley  remarked : 
"  They  annoy  us  so  much  that  they  must  be  mim- 
bers  of  our  own  family." 

In  England  the  great  newspapers  direct  and  mould 
public  opinion  upon  matters  not  to  be  apprehended 
without  special  study.  In  the  West  the  busiest 
man  must  do  his  own  thinking.  He  might  borrow 
the  opinions  of  others,  but  this,  as  a  rule,  he  is 
loath  to  do.  Professor  Hopkins,  speaking  of  the 
Transvaal  war,  says  :  "  I  hold  no  brief  for  England, 
but  while  she  serves  God  and  man  I  rejoice  in  her 
triumphs.  For  God  is  served  when  Man  is  bettered. 
This  was  the  case  in  India.  It  is  true  of  Egypt. 
It  is  true  of  the  many  little  lands  she  holds  around 
the  earth.  It  will  be  proved  again  in  South  Africa 
when  Boer  authority  yields  to  the  higher  civilisa- 
tion." Captain  Mahan  says  of  the  Boers:  "Their 
right  to  administer  the  country  as  they  please  de- 
pends upon  the  use  they  make  or  have  made  of 
that  power.     Personally  I  believe  they  "  (the  Boers) 


Pot-Pourri  2 1 1 

"  have  greatly  failed  and  have  forfeited  that  right. 
I  believe  the  Boer  Government  and  general  admin- 
istration to  constitute  a  corrupt  and  oppressive 
oligarchy.  Is  it  possible  that  there  are  Ameri- 
cans who  in  face  of  the  records  really  believe  that 
the  Transvaal  rather  than  Great  Britain  stands  for 
the  cause  of  political  liberty  and  purity  of  admin- 
istration ? " 

Captain  Mahan  may  well  ask  such  a  question. 
And  the  answer  to  it  ought  to  stimulate  the  sense 
of  justice  and  fair  play  upon  the  part  of  his  fellow- 
countrymen.  The  majority  of  Americans  do  believe 
that  the  Transvaal  stands  for  the  cause  of  political 
liberty.  And  they  would  sooner  listen  to  the 
impassioned  rhetoric  of  a  Parkhurst  than  the  well- 
weighed  utterances  of  a  Mahan,  an  Alger,  or  a 
Hopkins. 

None  the  less,  thoughtful  Americans  with  whom 
I  have  talked  on  this  subject  are  of  opinion  that 
truth  prevails  in  the  end. 

It  is  impossible  in  a  book  like  this  to  defend  the 
Imperial  policy  of  England  or  to  indict  the  Ameri- 
can misconception  of  that  policy,  but  I  cannot  for- 
bear quoting  a  few  lines  clipped  from  an  editorial 
which  appeared  in  the  "  San  Francisco  Chronicle " 
under  date  November  19,  1899  ;  a  fair  sample  of 
the  food  supplied  by  Western  journalists :  — 

*'  The  records  of  the  Transvaal  show  that  a  very  mod- 
erate tax  is  imposed  upon  the  net  output  of  the  gold 
mines  of  the  Eand.  ...  To  the  Boer's  credit  it  must 
be  said  that  not  one  instance  has  been  cited  against  him 
of  maladministration  of  justice  to  the  stranger  who  has 
invaded  his  country." 


212    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

Not  one  instance  ! 

The  man  who  wrote  this  leader  was  wilfully  per- 
verting the  facts  in  obedience  to  the  dictates  of  the 
Man  in  the  Street. 

Do  the  people  who  read  such  stuff  know  that  the 
Transvaal  Government  threw  into  prison  British 
subjects  who  refused  to  bear  arms  against  the 
Zulus  ?  Do  they  know  that  the  property  of  British 
subjects  was  confiscated  without  trial  ?  Do  they 
know  that  the  very  moderate  tax  (indirect  as  well  as 
direct)  imposed  upon  the  gold  miners  of  the  Rand 
brought  them  to  beggary  and  starvation  ?  Let 
those  who  doubt  the  unparalleled  corruption  and 
oppression  of  the  Boers  read  such  books  as  "  The 
Transvaal  from  Within,"  "  Side  Lights  on  South 
Africa,"  or  the  Blue  Books. 

I  will  cite  one  more  instance  of  deliberate  mis- 
representation upon  the  part  of  the  American  Press. 
When  famine  and  plague  were  ravaging  India  in 
1897,  Mr.  Julian  Hawthorne  was  sent  by  the  "  Cos- 
mopolitan Magazine  "  to  report  at  length  upon  the 
condition  of  the  natives  and  the  efforts  made  by  the 
British  Government  to  ameliorate  their  unhappy 
lot.  Mr.  Julian  Hawthorne  —  as  all  the  world 
knows  —  is  the  famous  son  of  a  more  famous  father, 
and  no  better  choice  could  have  been  made.  To 
such  a  man  public  and  private  doors  alike  were 
flung  wide  open.  He  saw  and  described  the  horrors 
of  starvation  and  disease,  and  what  he  wrote  was 
widely  read  and  as  widely  discussed.  My  numbers 
of  the  "  Cosmopolitan  Magazine  "  which  contain  his 
report  are  tossing  about  somewhere  between  Hamp- 
shire and  Cape  Horn,  so  I  cannot  quote  Mr.  Haw- 


Pot-Pourri  2 1  3 

thorne  verbatim,  but  he  testified  ,in  no  meagre 
words  to  the  Herculean  task  successfully  under- 
taken by  Her  Majesty's  Government ;  and  he  said 
flatly  that  no  other  Government  could  have  done 
as  much,  confronted  as  it  was  on  all  sides  by  pre- 
judice, fanaticism,  and  the  most  heart-breaking 
ignorance  of  the  laws  of  hygiene.  And  yet  in 
this  same  magazine  appeared  an  editorial  comment, 
indicting  in  scathing  language  the  very  methods  so 
handsomely  commended  by  Mr.  Hawthorne,  and 
these  editorial  comments  were  copied  by  the  West- 
ern Press.  No  honest  man,  reading  them,  could 
doubt  that  Mr.  Hawthorne  had  found  in  India 
British  indifference,  intolerance,  and  inefficiency. 
To  those  too  busy  to  read  the  articles  of  the  special 
correspondent,  these  excerpts  represented  the  facts. 

I  have  said  in  a  previous  chapter  that  the  tide  of 
prejudice  against  English  methods  and  institutions 
will  turn  when  English  and  Americans  fight  under 
•a  common  flag.  That  day  may  be  nearer  than  some 
think.  It  is  an  open  secret  that  the  German 
Emperor  has  cast  covetous  eyes  upon  the  Brazils. 
Germany,  not  England,  will  challenge  that  famous 
Monroe  Doctrine  which  has  been  flaunted  so  often, 
and  so  unnecessarily,  in  the  faces  of  English  state- 
men.  And  when  that  day  dawns  the  United  States 
will  appeal  —  and  not  in  vain  —  to  her  kinsmen 
overseas. 

It  is  significant  that  the  Anglophobia  which  dis- 
colours the  judgment  of  so  many  Americans  has 
failed  to  inspire  a  similar  sentiment  upon  this  side 
of  the  Atlantic,  The  people  of  England  grudge 
America   none   of  her   triumphs.     The   Stars   and 


2 1 4    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

Stripes  provoke  the  most  enthusiastic  cheers  when- 
ever they  are  unfurled.  According  to  the  Western 
Press,  this  is  cupboard  love.  John  Bull  is  por- 
trayed as  Iscariot  betraying  Brother  Jonathan  with 
a  kiss.  But  let  it  be  noted  that  T  am  not  speaking 
of  English  statesmen  who  may  or  may  not  have  an 
axe  to  grind.  I  am  speaking  of  the  masses,  who 
do  not  care  a  rush  about  politics,  but  who  do 
honestly  profess  a  kindly  affection  for  a  great  nation 
speaking  a  common  tongue.^ 

In  conclusion  I  wish  to  say  on  behalf  of  the 
Western  Press  that  it  is  only  partly  responsible 
for  a  condition  of  affairs  which  may  be  illumined 
by  light  from  within  rather  than  from  without. 
Newspapers  are  printed  to  make  money ;  and  that 

1  Mauy  Englishmen  are  distressed  at  the  difference  between  our 
tongue  and  the  lingua  Americana.  Uncle  Sam  cuts  the  "  u  "  out  of 
favour.  Why  does  he  add  an  "  e  "  to  whisky?  Is  it  not  better 
straight?  Again,  in  America  latinised  words  are  pronounced 
(very  properly)  in  accordance  with  the  continental  pronunciation 
of  Latin.  Westerners  say  "  tonsiketis,"  not  tonsilitis.  Why  then 
do  they  pronounce  the  word  we  call  quineen  —  quinine?  Such 
"  cussedness  "  baffles  the  philologist.  The  vowels  we  shorten  are 
broadened  in  the  West,  and  vice  versa.  The  native  son  lends  a 
richness  to  the  "  o  "  in  coffee  seldom  found  in  the  drink.  A  cow- 
boy grins  and  jeers  if  you  pronounce  "  calf  "  according  to  the  rule 
laid  down  in  the  Century  Dictionary. 

The  use  of  the  letter  *'  r  "  jars  upon  ears  proof  against  twang 
and  drawl ;  for  twang  and  drawl  are  in  a  sense  distinctive  of  the 
nation,  although  they  may  annoy  a  sensitive  British  ear  at  first ; 
but  the  burr  of  the  "  r  "  (in  such  words  as  dinner  —  dear  —  your  — 
Arthur)  is  the  peculiar  heritage  of  the  lower  class  in  England.  A 
lady  of  quality  may  speak  through  her  nose ;  a  sprig  of  nobility 
drawls  his  vowels;  but  you  never  hear  the  plebeian  "r"  in  an 
English  drawing-room  except  from  the  mouth  of  a  servant,  or  from 
a  guest  whose  claims  to  recognition  are  other  than  those  of  birth. 
In  fine,  the  "  r  "  is  a  gutter-bred  consonant,  and  will  remain 
anathema  so  long  as  distinctions  of  caste  exist  in  England. 


Pot-Pourri  2 1 5 

newspaper  makes  the  most  money  which  caters 
successfully  to  the  greatest  number  of  readers. 
The  journalists  of  the  West  are  neither  ignorant 
nor  prejudiced.  But  they  are  free  lances  fighting, 
and  fighting  hard,  for  little  more  than  bread  and 
butter.  Their  taskmasters  instruct  them  to  weave 
ropes  out  of  sand,  to  make  bricks  without  straw. 
One  man,  a  man  of  letters  too,  told  me  that  he  had 
•instructions  from  his  boss  to  embellish  fifteen  out 
of  the  sixteen  pages  of  his  'newspaper  with  either 
a  murder  or  a  suicide.  The  sixteenth,  the  editorial 
page,  was  kept  immaculate,  because  —  so  said  my 
friend  —  it  was  never  read  !  Bits  of  description  — 
a  visit  to  a  children's  hospital,  the  departure  of  a 
troopship,  a  presidential  election  —  are  done  de- 
lightfully, charmingly,  with  a  gift  of  vivid  expres- 
sion, an  informing  joyous  humanity,  a  sparkle  and 
sympathy  seldom  found  in  the  columns  of  the  great 
London  dailies.  But  "  no  talent,"  to  quote  George 
Lewes,  "  can  be  supremely  effective,  unless  it  act  in 
close  alliance  with  certain  moral  qualities."  The 
Western  Press  is  profoundly  immoral,  because  it 
deliberately  throws  a  glamour  of  attraction  upon 
vice  and  crime.  I  could  cite  a  score  of  instances, 
but  one  will  suffice.  For  many  months  two  train- 
robbers,  Evans  and  Sontag,  set  the  police  of  Cali- 
fornia at  defiance.  These  men  were  brutes,  endowed 
with  the  redeeming  qualities  of  the  wild  beast  — 
courage  and  endurance.  Upon  these  qualities  the 
Calif ornian  Press  pounced.  Day  after  day  columns 
of  brilliant  description  were  devoted  to  the  ad- 
ventures, the  hairbreadth  escapes,  the  thrilling  ex- 
periences  of   two   desperadoes.      One   enterprising 


2i6    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

journalist  —  at  the  peril  of  his  life  —  actually 
sought  them  out,  and  his  account  of  that  inter- 
view, an  admirable  piece  of  work,  was  read  with 
breathless  interest  by  every  man,  woman,  and  child 
on  the  Pacific  Slope.  So  cunningly,  so  artistically, 
so  diabolically  (in  a  sense)  were  the  virtues  of  these 
ruffians  set  forth,  that  their  vices  melted  from  the 
public  sight.  Sober  citizens  observed  to  the  writer : 
"  After  all,  —  such  fellows  deserve  to  escape." 

The  venality  of  the  Western  Press  does  not  make 
for  immorality,  because  (like  a  drunkard  reeling 
through  the  streets)  it  is  seen,  and  serves  as  a 
warning.  More,  the  Press  is  not  nearly  so  venal 
as  the  Man  in  the  Street  believes  it  to  be.  I  have 
often  been  asked  apropos  of  a  kind  review  of  my 
novels  :  "  What  did  that  cost  you  ? "  Some  papers 
are  notoriously  in  the  pay  of  certain  corporations ; 
and  others  —  I  speak  from  personal  experience  — 
do  not  hesitate  to  demand  blackmail  from  men  with 
large  interests  at  stake.  And  yet  I  am  strongly  of 
the  opinion  that  the  people  themselves,  not  the  pro- 
prietors of  the  newspapers,  are  chiefly  to  blame,  and 
the  remedy  is  so  obvious  as  to  need  no  mention  here. 
Lest  some  English  reader  may  be  tempted  to  curl  an 
"  unco  guid  "  lip,  it  may  be  well  to  add  that  the  finan- 
cial papers  of  the  city  of  London  are  more  venal  and 
more  unscrupulous  than  the  papers  of  the  West. 

I  have  met  many  Western  journalists  and  am 
greatly  indebted  to  them  for  much  kindness  and 
courtesy.  For  the  most  part  they  are  Bohemians, 
of  a  type  that  is  passing  away  in  London.  With 
some  it  is  always  either  a  feast  or  a  famine ;  after 
a  successful  "  scoop  "  the  wine  flows  freely,  and  you 


Pot-Pourri  2 1 7 

meet  them  in  the  smart  restaurants  or  in  the  clubs, 
ordering  the  best  of  everything  for  themselves  and 
their  friends.  When  the  dun  days  come  they  lie 
low,  and  drink  "  steam "  beer  and  eat  the  humble 
sausage  — "  bag  o'  mystery,"  as  it  is  called  in  Lon- 
don. Eain  or  shine  they  are  full  of  "grit"  and 
humour  and  charity.  I  must  mention  one  in  par- 
ticular, a  prince  of  good  fellows,  the  late  Dan 
O'Connell,  a  nephew  of  the  famous  Irishman,  and 
like  him  in  many  respects.  I  remember  a  day's 
shooting  I  had  with  him  many  years  ago.  We  shot 
nothing  —  for  there  was  nothing  to  shoot;  but  we 
carried  with  us  good  store  of  what  Dugald  Dalgetty 
called  "provaunt";  and  we  had  a  glorious  time, 
supplied  by  Dan,  who  was  truly  inexhaustible. 

To  the  Western  journalist  the  world  is  an  oyster, 
which  he  hopes  to  open  with  his  quill ;  it  behoves 
him  therefore  to  keep  that  quill  in  some  toughen- 
ing mixture  such  as  printer's  ink.  Not  long  ago 
I  was  walking  with  my  father-in-law  in  San  Jos^, 
a  pretty  town  in  California  known  as  the  Garden 
City.  Bounding  a  corner,  we  came  upon  a  fellow 
talking  to  three  small  boys  and  an  old  woman. 
We  halted  and  listened  to  a  most  amazing  jargon, 
something  quite  inarticulate  and  incoherent.  As 
we  moved  on,  my  father-in-law  said  that  the  man 
was  "practising."  He  was  learning,  in  fine,  his 
trade.  One  feels  sorry  for  the  three  small  boys 
and  the  old  woman,  but  seemingly  they  had  no 
objection  to  play  the  part  of  strop.  I  once  asked 
a  lady-barber  how  she  learned  her  art.  If  you 
come  to  think  of  it  the  question  bristles  like  the 
beard  of  a  buccaneer.     What  man  is  brave  enough 


21 8    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

to  submit  his  cheek  to  the  virgin  blade  of  a  lady- 
barber?  Not  I  assuredly.  She  answered  quite 
composedly:  "Oh,  I  practised  on  my  husband  — 
he  didn't  mind."  And  the  public  "doesn't  mind" 
the  practising  of  the  journalist,  not  even  when  the 
pen  pricks  or  stabs.  It  (the  public)  demands  some- 
thing stimulating,  pungent,  well-spiced,  and  if  the 
pepper  makes  it  sneeze,  what  of  it  ? 

But  you  cannot  explain  all  this  to  the  travelling 
Briton. 

Politics  in  the  West,  even  more  than  in  the  East, 
is  a  profession,  a  profession  moreover  that  exacts 
undivided  energies  and  which  unfits  a  man  for 
other  callings.  No  citizen  is  so  stupid  and  in- 
capable as  to  be  ineligible  for  state  service  as  a 
candidate,  but  the  people,  as  a  general  rule,  are 
unwilling  to  entrust  their  interests  to  a  gaolbird. 
I  remember  two  men  who  were  candidates  for 
the  office  of  District  Attorney.  One  had  served 
before,  the  other  was  a  young  man  conducting  his 
first  campaign.  The  veteran  was  speaking  in  a 
small  town,  and  after  setting  forth  his  own  claims, 
he  spoke  as  follows  of  his  opponent :  "  My  friends, 

I  understand  that  Mr.  X is  in  every  sense  a 

worthy  and  honourable  man,  but  I  ask  you  to  re- 
member that  he  has  never  been  tried  —  he  has 
never  been  tried!* 

"That's  so,"  exclaimed  a  voice.  "You've  been 
tried,  old  man,  hav'n't  you?  And  convicted  too,  by 
Golly!" 

After  due  inquiry  it  appeared  that  the  veteran 
had,  indeed,  been  indicted  for  horse-stealing,  and 
convicted.     He  was  not  elected. 


Pot-Pourri  219 

A  hayseed  and  shirtsleeve  campaign  is  peculiar 
to  the  West.  The  candidate,  born  of  poor  but 
honest  parents,  makes  up  accordingly.  For  a  sea- 
son he  shuns  soap  and  water,  leaves  the  hayseed 
in  his  hair,  travels  about  in  a  ramshackle  buggy, 
and  thereby  harvests  most  of  the  votes  of  his  sock- 
less  brother  man.  One  of  these  fellows  was  speak- 
ing at  our  county  town.  He  held  out  a  pair  of 
singularly  dirty  hands,  and  assured  us  that  he 
could  wield  the  lariat  better  than  he  could  the  pen, 
that  he  was  more  at  home  in  the  corral  than  on 
the  rostrum.  Whereupon  a  sage  sitting  behind  me 
observed  with  a  inimitable  drawl : 

"  Yes  —  he  prefers  the  smell  of  manure  to  that  of 
rosewater." 

A  seat  in  the  State  Legislature  entitles  the  holder 
to  write  "Honourable"  before  his  name.  I  knew 
one  man  who  boasted  that  during  his  two  years  at 
Sacramento  he  had  paid  off  a  heavy  mortgage  on 
his  ranch.  He  was  not  re-elected,  but  he  remained 
"  honourable  "  till  he  died.  Such  gentlemen  begin 
their  careers  by  attacking  some  wealthy  corpora- 
tion. They  end  as  staunch  supporters  of  the  people 
they  have  assailed,  for  —  as  one  of  them  once 
observed  to  me  —  political  opinions  are  subject 
to  modification.  To  the  man  "with  the  sack," 
Anglic^,  the  millionaire,  the  word  legislator  is 
practically  a  synonym  for  blackmailer,  although 
the  majority  of  state  senators  and  assembly-men 
would  refuse  scornfully  a  direct  bribe.  The  Devil 
has  many  baits;  witness  the  parson  who  rejected 
gold  and  preferment,  but  swallowed  greedily  a 
garter. 


220    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

And  yet  the  practice  of  bribery  is  robbed  of  half 
its  virulence,  because  it  is  done  openly  —  coram 
puUico.  More,  the  present  political  system  —  the 
machine,  as  it  is  called  —  works  fairly  well,  for  the 
bosses  and  wire-pullers  serve  a  fickle  public,  and 
are  constrained,  willy-nilly,  to  behave  themselves. 
One  of  the  best  known  bosses  of  California  has 
never  made  a  penny  out  of  his  politics.  He  loves 
power,  of  course,  and  he  controls  his  "  gang "  with 
the  unerring  skill  and  instinct  of  a  dictator,  but 
outside  of  politics  he  is  known  and  respected  as 
an  honest  and  honourable  man.  He  will  talk 
quite  frankly  about  himself  and  his  methods.  "  If 
I  want  a  thing,"  he  says,  "I  don't  fool  about 
with  understrappers,  but  I  go  to  headquarters  and 
ask  squarely  the  price  to  be  paid.  If  I  can  pay 
that  price  —  good.  If  not,  I  bear  no  ill-feeling, 
and  I  always  try  to  give  value  received.  I  buy 
and  sell  political  privileges  in  the  open  market." 

Our  methods  in  England  are  not  so  very  dis- 
similar. 

Not  long  ago  an  experiment  was  made,  which 
failed.  A  young  man  of  large  wealth  and  good 
education  presented  himself  as  candidate  for  an 
important  municipal  office.  In  the  clubs  and  in 
the  streets  it  was  confidently  asserted  that  the 
"boss"  had  had  his  day.  And  it  really  seemed 
to  be  so.  None  doubted  that  the  candidate  was 
honestly  anxious  to  inaugurate  a  new  and  happier 
system;  that  he  was  sacrificing  himself  and  his 
interests  on  behalf  of  the  state.  A  great  many 
infamous  jobs  upon  the  part  of  the  city  super- 
visors had  inflamed  the  public  mind,  and  the  can- 


Pot-Pourri  221 

didate  promised  the  people  that  if  he  were  elected 
the  "  spoils  system "  should  cease,  that  patronage 
should  only  be  given  where  it  was  deserved,  that 
the  money-changers  should  be  scourged  from  the 
city's  temples,  that,  in  fine,  executive  ability,  econ- 
omy, and  integrity  should  succeed  rapacity,  im- 
providence, and  depravity.  He  was  elected.  But 
notwithstanding  his  efforts,  evil  still  prevailed  and 
multiplied ;  the  machine  was  fighting  the  man, 
and  the  man  had  only  the  moral  support  of  his 
friends  too  busy  with  their  own  affairs  to  lend 
him  a  helping  hand.  The  man  had  his  raw  and 
undisciplined  levies,  which  the  machine  mowed 
down  with  golden  shrapnel.  I  have  not  the  fig- 
ures, but  I  think  it  was  abundantly  proved  that 
the  City  Treasury  found  vice  less  costly  than 
virtue. 

Optimists,  however,  predict  a  change.  And  it  is 
certain  that  public  opinion  will  demand  a  cleansing 
of  the  political  stables.  It  is  a  question  of  time 
and  money.  Time  in  the  West  is  money,  and 
those  who  are  destined  to  handle  the  brooms  must 
be  willing  to  sweep  long  and  patiently.  To-day, 
everywhere,  there  is  an  uneasy  feeling  that  the  poli- 
ticians represent  faithfully  enough  certain  classes, 
and  that  it  must  always  be  so,  so  long  as  these 
classes  flourish.  Once  a  prizefighter  was  sent  to 
Congress  by  a  New  England  community,  where- 
upon a  wit  said  that  the  people  had  a  right  to 
be  represented.  In  the  West  the  "tough"  ele- 
ment is  slowly  and  surely  disappearing,  and  with 
it  will  pass  away  the  jobbery  and  corruption  which 
taint  practical  politics.     It  is  beginning  to  be  under- 


222    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

stood  that  office-seekers,  irrespective  of  party  preju- 
dice, must  make  good  their  claims  to  be  elected. 
Civil  service  reform  is  tickling  the  ears  of  both 
Republicans  and  Democrats,  and  the  Auditors,  the 
Recorders,  the  Postmasters,  and  the  like,  are  being 
chosen  because  they  possess  qualifications  other 
than  impudence  and  a  capacity  for  absorbing  un- 
limited whisky.  I  can  well  remember  a  contest 
between  a  Republican  and  a  Democrat  for  one  of 
the  most  important  state  offices,  an  office  highly 
paid,  but  involving  great  financial  responsibilities. 
The  Democrat  was  a  Catholic  and  in  possession  of 
the  Irish  vote ;  he  was  a  man  of  great  personal 
charm,  widely  known,  and  very  popular.  He  was 
also  a  saloon-keeper,  a  gambler,  and  a  profligate. 
The  Republican,  on  the  other  hand,  was  unknown, 
but  his  record  as  man  and  politician  was  clean. 
The  politicians  predicted  an  overwhelming  majority 
for  the  Democrat ;  but,  by  virtue  of  that  change  in 
public  opinion  of  which  I  have  spoken,  the  Repub- 
lican was  elected,  and  morality  vindicated.  I  could 
cite  a  score  of  similar  cases. 

Public  Opinion,  in  a  new  country,  is  a  slippery 
customer,  a  chameleon  whose  exact  colour  varies 
from  hour  to  hour,  a  lightning-change  artist :  yes- 
terday, the  apostle  of  the  Monroe  Doctrine ;  to-day, 
an  ardent  Imperialist;  to-morrow,  what?  How- 
ever, despite  this  Protean  faculty  (perhaps  because 
of  it).  Public  Opinion  in  the  West,  while  it  has 
tolerated  and  even  cherished  a  certain  absolutism 
verging  on  tyranny  in  regard  to  the  conduct  of 
Western  affairs,  has  also  been  quick  to  profit  by 


Pot-Pourri  223 

the  mistakes  of  those  who  live  in  the  East.  And 
the  absolutism  which  for  so  many  years  sanctioned 
moral  laxity  and  ignorance,  has  become  now  pas- 
sive rather  than  active.  Men  still  drink,  but  they 
no  longer  boast  of  being  drunkards ;  the  illiterate 
have  no  hang-dog  air  as  in  Europe,  but  they  are 
quaintly  sensible  that  silence  becomes  them  better 
than  speech ;  the  loose-livers  prefer  the  by-ways  to 
the  roaring  thoroughfares.  I  remember  a  man  who 
was  always  prating  that  he  was  self-made.  A  fellow- 
citizen  with  a  sense  of  humour  finally  silenced  him. 
"  You  are  self-made ;  yes,"  he  murmured,  "  and  we 
may  concede  perhaps  that  you  are  as  good  as  God's 
creatures,  hut  are  you  any  better  ? " 

Public  Opinion  in  the  West  serves  one  sauce  to 
the  gander  and  another  to  the  goose.  Outside  of 
smart  society,  it  is  held  to  be  a  sin  for  a  woman  to 
play  whist  for  small  stakes,  although  Progressive 
Euchre  parties  for  valuable  prizes  are  customary 
and  perfectly  proper.  In  the  hamlets  and  small 
towns  kissing  games  are  played  with  ardour  by 
church  members  in  good  standing,  but  dancing  is 
tabu.  Certain  expressions,  common  enough  in  Eng- 
land, are  held  to  be  improper  west  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains ;  if  used  at  all  they  should  be  draped, 
which  to  my  mind  makes  them  indecent  at  once, 
even  as  a  fig  leaf  makes  the  nudity  of  a  statue 
conspicuous.  Mr.  Anthony  Comstock,  amongst 
other  things,  objected  to  the  cupids  so  delightfully 
drawn  upon  the  cover  of  Life;  shortly  after  a 
famous  cartoon  appeared  in  that  paper  in  which 
horses,  dogs,  and  all  animals  were  invested  with 
pantalettes.     In  the  West,  the  stranger  and  pilgrim 


224    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

will   do   well   to   remember   that   certain   subjects 
must  always  be  presented  —  in  pantalettes. 

I  intended  to  devote  a  chapter  to  Western  Art 
and  Literature,  but  on  both  these  fascinating  sub- 
jects I  am  unwilling  to  speak.  The  reader  will 
remember  the  story  of  the  undergraduate  who  was 
asked  to  name  the  minor  prophets :  he  refused,  on 
the  ground  that  he  was  not  in  the  habit  of  making 
invidious  distinctions.  In  writing  of  the  authors 
and  artists  of  the  Pacific  Slope,  it  is  hardly  possible 
to  avoid  invidious  distinctions.  From  what  samples 
we  have  already :  such  landscapes  as  Keith's,  for 
instance,  and  such  poetry  as  Joaquin  Miller's  and 
Miss  Coolbrith's  —  we  may  confidently  expect  both 
in  Art  and  Literature  something  sui  generis.  Some- 
thing entirely  different  from  what  the  East  has 
given  us.  Much  as  I  admire  the  subtlety  and 
delicacy  of  Mr.  James's  a«id  Mr.  Howells's  art,  I  am 
sensible  that  they  deal  with  what  is  secondary 
rather  than  primal.  The  grandeur  of  the  Pacific 
Slope  is  elemental,  and  the  form  in  which  that 
grandeur  will  find  adequate  expression  will  cer- 
tainly not  be  a  preciosite  of  diction.  I  remember 
Mr.  Ambrose  Bierce  falling  foul  of  the  words  "  local 
colour,"  which,  like  other  phrases,  has  become  shop- 
soiled.  But  for  lack  of  better  words,  these  do 
convey  definite  meaning.  The  colour  of  Californian 
skies  and  seas  and  mountains  and  flowers  is  local. 
At  least  I  have  seen  nothing  like  it  elsewhere. 
The  colour  of  that  great  Silent  Land  to  the  north 
of  the  Golden  State  is  local.  The  adjective  may 
be  detestable,  but  we  seem  to  have  no  other.  And 
so  we  may  predict  that  the  picture,  or  poem,   or 


Pot-Pourri  225 

novel,  which  will  represent  the  West  as  it  is  will 
be  conceived  and  executed  in  a  spirit  absolutely 
original,  differing  in  form,  although  not  inferior  in 
form,  from  what  we  have  already.  If  style  be 
"  the  stamp  which  makes  thought  current,"  the 
thinkers  of  the  Pacific  Slope  must  mould  a  die  of 
their  own.  They  cannot  expect  their  message  to 
the  world  to  be  franked  by  others.  Improperly 
stamped,  it  must  be  sent  to  the  Dead-Letter  Office. 


15 


XIII 
ETHICAL 


XIII 
ETHICAL 

IN  a  Western  town  or  village  the  first  thing  likely 
to  catch  the  eye  of  the  traveller  (indeed  it  was 
invented  for  that  purpose  alone)  is  the  sham  front 
of  his  hotel.  Upon  examination  he  will  mark  that 
nearly  all  the  stores  and  buildings  are  built  to  be- 
guile the  imagination.  Even  the  livery-stables, 
board-and-batten  barns,  unpainted,  roofed  with 
shakes  (not  shingles),  present  a  solid  and  fire-proof 
appearance  when  seen  from  the  street;  brick  has 
been  used  possibly,  or  stone.  And  yet  none  is  de- 
ceived :  the  thing  is  obviously  sham,  obviously  built 
for  show. 

Is  there  not  something  pathetic  in  this  ?  It  is  a 
sort  of  mild  hypocrisy  which,  like  a  Scotch  mist, 
pervades  the  atmosphere.  The  men  who  leave  old 
countries  for  new  must  be  profoundly  conscious  of 
the  difference  between  the  old  and  the  new ;  they 
are  for  ever  adjusting,  so  far  as  they  can,  this  dif- 
ference. Lacking  the  real  thing,  they  try  to  console 
themselves  with  its  counterfeit  presentment.  And 
the  consciousness  that  despite  their  efforts  the 
thing  is  a  sham  has  a  curious  effect  for  good  and 
evil.  Eor  good,  inasmuch  as  each  man  recognises 
the  false  and  wishes  to  substitute  for  it  the  true. 
Were  he  content  with  the  adobe  huts  that  satisfied 
the  Hispano-Californians,  were  he  willing  to  lie  in 


230    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

the  sun,  to  eat,  to  drink,  and  to  dance,  aimless  and 
listless,  the  plaything  of  the  present,  he  could  not 
call  himself  American.  He  must  struggle  upward 
towards  the  ideal,  be  it  attainable  or  not.  The  little 
girl  plays  with  her  doll,  thinking  innocently  of  the 
baby  that  may  one  day  lie  in  her  arms;  the  boy 
toots  his  penny  trumpet,  hearing  the  clarion  note 
of  the  man.  Who  would  rob  these  children  of  their 
illusions,  who  is  not  charmed  and  touched  by  their 
sweet  monkey  tricks  ?  And  yet  what  more  pitiful 
than  the  sight  of  a  grown  woman  or  a  strong  man  who 
has  not  learned  to  put  away  the  toys  that  belong 
to  youth  alone.  And  so  with  the  children  of  a  new 
country,  who  cares  to  laugh  at  the  sham  fronts  of 
the  houses,  knowing  that  these  are  card  castles  to 
be  rebuilt  of  brick,  and  stone,  and  marble  —  by 
and  bye  ? 

The  same  spirit  that  makes  men  build  false  fronts 
to  their  houses,  forces  them  to  "  keep  up  appear- 
ances "  in  everything  else.  They  pay  the  price  of 
lies  —  the  word  is  too  harsh,  perhaps  —  by  being 
constrained,  as  the  poet  tells  us,  to  lie  on  still. 
Finally  the  lie  masquerades  as  truth ;  the  liar  be- 
comes convinced  that  he  is  an  honest  man.  George 
IV.  believed  firmly  that  he  had  taken  part  in  the 
battle  of  Waterloo.  Once  he  appealed  publicly  to 
the  Duke  of  Wellington,  asking  the  great  com- 
mander if  it  were  not  so.  The  Duke  replied  grimly : 
"  I  've  always  heard  your  Majesty  say  so." 

The  writer  has  seen  a  country  practically  bank- 
rupt, banks  tottering,  tradesmen  unable  to  meet  or 
collect  their  bills,  farmers  in  despair;  and  this 
condition  of  affairs  was  not  the  effect  of  low  prices, 


Ethical  231 

drought,  and  a  collapsed  boom,  but  the  more 
subtle  manifestation  of  doing  business  under  false 
pretences. 

It  was  then  that  the  moral  weakness  of  the  com- 
munity showed  itself.  The  silver  question  was  the 
topic  of  the  hour.  The  leaders  of  the  movement 
for  what  was  called  the  "  rehabilitation "  of  silver 
published  pamphlets  and  small  books  by  the  mil- 
lion. These  were  easily  read  and  digested.  For 
many  years  the  theories  of  the  Silver  men  had 
attracted  little  attention.  Now,  of  a  sudden,  these 
theories,  in  the  mind  of  the  crowd,  became  demon- 
strated truths.  A  French  philosopher,  Monsieur 
Gustave  Le  Bon,  says  that  Napoleon  was  of  opinion 
that  the  one  figure  in  rhetoric  of  serious  importance 
was  repetition.  The  Silver  men  were  sharp  enough 
to  grasp  this  truth.  They  kept  on  saying  that  if 
Uncle  Sam  passed  a  law  making  silver  legal  tender 
for  all  debts,  at  the  ratio  of  sixteen  ounces  of  silver 
to  one  of  gold,  their  debts  —  and  they  were  all  in 
debt  —  would  straightway  be  cut  in  half,  silver  at 
that  time  being  worth  as  a  commodity  in  the  world's 
market  about  half  the  face  value  of  the  dollar. 
Men's  minds  were  so  inflamed,  and  their  greed  so 
quickened,  that  ordinary  arguments  were  of  no 
avail.  The  Gold  "  bugs,"  as  they  were  called,  tried 
to  stem  the  tide  with  dignified  remonstrance.  "  We 
can't  have  too  much  silver,"  said  one  street  orator ; 
"  I  never  had  too  much  silver  —  did  you  ?  "  Such 
talk  passed  current  as  wit  and  logic.  I  pointed  out 
to  a  man  that  the  debts  of  Uncle  Sam  to  Europe 
were  contracted  on  the  understanding  that  they 
were  to   be  paid  in  gold;  that  in  obedience  to  a 


232    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

fundamental  law,  the  cheaper  metal  would  drive 
from  the  country  the  dearer ;  that  America  would 
be  drained  of  its  gold,  and  that  these  debts  to 
foreign  countries  would  be  surely  repudiated.  My 
friend  was  in  no  way  dismayed.  "  Look  here,"  he 
said  pleasantly,  "  that 's  an  argument  for  and  not 
against  us.  We  ought  to  built  a  ring  fence  around 
the  United  States  and  then  we  'd  cabbage  these 
millions  that  you  say  belong  to  Europe." 

Finally,  the  champions  of  gold  were  constrained 
to  fight  the  Silverites  with  their  own  weapons. 
The  country  was  flooded  with  more  pamphlets 
mainly  in  answer  to  a  man  Harvey,  the  author 
of  "Coin's  Financial  School."  Other  causes  — 
notably  better  crops  and  prices  in  the  great  mid- 
west—  combined  to  turn  the  trend  of  popular 
opinion.  To-day,  Silver,  as  a  great  political  issue, 
may  be  pronounced  —  dead. 

That  Adversity  taints  men's  sense  of  justice  is 
a  post  hoc  propter  hoc  argument.  Not  adversity, 
but  ill-regulated  prosperity  preceding  hard  times 
really  taints  the  people.  I  can  remember  the 
settling-up  of  the  Arroyo  Grande  valley,  one  of 
the  most  fertile  valleys  in  the  world.  When  I  first 
came  to  California  it  was  a  wilderness  of  weeds  and 
willows  —  what  the  Spanish  call  "  monte."  When 
the  "  monte  "  was  cleared,  the  soil  proved  peculiarly 
adapted  to  the  growth  of  vegetables,  and  in  partic- 
ular the  common  white  and  brown  bean.  It 
soon  became  famous  as  having  produced  the  larg- 
est onions  in  the  world.  Its  pumpkins,  too,  and 
its  carrots  and  beets  were  colossal.  This  valley 
belonged  to  a  friend  of  mine,  who  sold  it  in  small 


Ethical  233 

subdivisions  to  the  first  settlers.  They  made  a 
small  cash  payment,  and  gave  their  promissory 
note,  secured  by  mortgage  for  the  balance  of  the 
purchase  money.  In  less  than  five  years  all  these 
bean -raisers  were  rich.  They  built  large  houses, 
furnished  them  with  Brussels  carpets  and  oak 
furniture,  bought  their  daughters  pianos,  clothed 
their  women  in  silk  and  satin,  and,  in  fine,  spent 
lightly  what  they  had  lightly  made.  During  the 
hard  times  of  1897  and  1898,  I  rode  through  this 
valley,  and  learned  that  nearly  every  farmer  in  it 
was  bankrupt. 

However,  next  time,  when  the  wind  of  adversity 
blows  keen  and  cold,  their  sails  will  be  closely 
reefed. 

English  people,  stay-at-home  folks,  condemn  this 
extravagance  and  recklessness.  But  to  me  it  is 
plain  that  nothing  else  could  have  reasonably  been 
expected.  Here  is  a  country  out  of  which,  within 
the  last  forty  years,  have  been  taken  tons  and  tons 
of  gold,  not  to  mention  other  precious  metals.  Its 
lands  held  at  a  few  cents  an  acre  have  enhanced 
fabulously  in  value.  Its  products  are  found  in 
every  market  in  the  world.  And  this  enormous 
wealth  fell,  for  the  most  part,  into  the  hands  of 
poor  and  obscure  men. 

I  can  remember  a  small  experience  of  my  own. 
There  was  a  tract  of  land  adjoining  my  ranch  for 
which  the  owner  asked  some  eight  dollars  an  acre. 
It  was  similar  in  soil  and  so  forth  to  my  land ;  so 
I  decided  to  buy  it,  and  went  to  England  for  the 
money.  In  the  frosty  English  atmosphere,  my 
speculative   instincts   were    nipped.      Six   months 


2  34    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

later  I  returned  to  California.  The  land  had  been 
sold  to  a  friend  of  mine.  And  he  had  resold  it, 
during  those  few  months,  for  thirty  dollars  an 
acre! 

To  show  how  curiously  the  moral  currency  —  to 
borrow  Frederic  Harrison's  fine  phrase  —  may  be 
debased  in  a  country  subject  to  an  amazing  infla- 
tion and  deflation  of  values,  I  will  cite  a  remark- 
able case.  The  town  of  Santa  Cruz  sold  some 
bonds  in  New  York.  These  bonds  had  been  placed 
in  the  hands  of  an  agent  who,  after  the  sale,  bolted 
with  the  cash.  Thereupon  Santa  Cruz  repudiated 
the  sale.  The  Supreme  Court,  however,  decided 
against  the  town,  and  made  it  honest.  It  is  proper 
to  add  that  this  attempted  rascality  provoked  em- 
phatic condemnation  from  the  State  of  California. 

Nearly  all  the  public  buildings  in  the  West  are 
monuments  of  bad  faith  upon  the  part  of  the 
builder,  contractor,  architect,  and  those  paid  offi- 
cials to  whom  the  care  of  such  important  matters 
is  assigned.  The  new  City  Hall  in  San  Francisoo 
is  a  pyramid  of  fraud  incredible:  the  concrete 
example  of  a  prodigious  "job." 

Speaking  of  public  buildings,  it  has  always  seemed 
to  me  an  incomprehensible  blunder  upon  the  part 
of  a  people  who  are  shrewd  beyond  all  others  in 
adjusting  means  to  ends  that  the  designing  and 
construction  of  school-houses,  for  instance,  are  en- 
trusted to  Tom,  Dick  and  Harry,  instead  of  to  a 
Board  of  State  Architects,  specialists  appointed  for 
life,  qualified  to  prepare  suitable  plans  and  see  them 
honestly  executed.  Throughout  Southern  Califor- 
nia, where  the  sun  shines  steadily  for  more  than 


Ethical  235 

three  hundred  days  in  the  year,  the  school-houses 
lack  awnings  and  broad  verandahs.  Economy  for- 
bids, you  reply.  Not  so.  Most  of  these  gimcrack 
shanties  are  embellished  with  towers  and  cupolas. 
The  instinct  for  display  manifests  itself  in  crude 
and  vulgar  decoration :  friezes,  panels,  mouldings, 
what  in  short  the  people  themselves  call — frills. 
The  moral  effect  of  this  upon  the  plastic  minds  of 
the  children  is  not  to  be  ignored.  The  girls  learn 
to  set  an  extravagant  value  upon  appearance.  Ask 
the  druggists  of  the  Pacific  Slope  how  much  money 
is  spent  by  maidens  not  out  of  their  teens  upon 
complexion  washes,  arsenic  wafers,  hair  dyes,  beauty 
masks,  bust  developers,  and  —  nose-machines  ! 

In  fine,  the  gentle  art  of  pretending  to  be  what  you 
are  not  is  ardently  pursued  in  the  West,  although, 
like  the  will  o'  the  wisp,  it  leads  into  quagmires. 

The  teachers  in  the  schools  and  the  pastors  of 
the  churches  are  not  responsible  for  a  condition  of 
affairs  which  they  strive  (for  the  most  part  in  vain) 
to  ameliorate.  Their  efforts  are  handicapped  by 
public  opinion  which  assigns  them  a  place  too  low 
in  the  social  scale.  In  a  new  country,  the  inter- 
preters of  the  spiritual  lie  beneath  the  heel  of  the 
material.  Nearly  all  the  ministers  of  the  gospel 
are  shockingly  under-paid,  and  eating  their  bread 
and  butter  subject  to  the  caprice  of  a  committee  of 
women.  Above  the  head  of  the  preacher  impends 
a  tempestuous  petticoat. 

The  day  must  dawn  when  the  men  of  the  West 
will  see  the  necessity  of  exalting  the  ministers  of 
the  gospel  above  the  ignominies  of  work-a-day  life. 
Now,  they  (the  ministers)  are  constrained  to  beg, 


236    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

and  borrow,  aye,  and  steal  the  bread  which  should 
be  theirs  of  right.  I  remember  one  man  who  went 
to  a  friend  of  mine  to  buy  some  timber.  A  poor, 
country  parson,  he  had  no  ready  money  to  pay 
for  his  timber,  but  he  promised  faithfully  to  pay 
within  ninety  days.  More  than  a  year  elapsed  and 
payment  was  not  made.  The  parson  had  mean- 
time been  confronted  by  many  trials  and  tribula- 
tions: his  small  stipend  was  not  regularly  paid; 
his  wife  and  children  were  sickly ;  he  was  sensible 
that  his  influence  over  a  scattered  flock  was  lan- 
guishing. The  merchant  called  upon  him.  "I 
have  come  to  tell  you,"  said  he,  "  that  a  preacher 
of  the  gospel  ought  not  to  promise  what  he  cannot 
perform.     It  will  pay  you,  sir,  to  be  honest" 

As  if  any  man  could  walk  upright  with  pebbles 
in  his  shoes ! 

In  the  West  the  churches  are  filled  with  women ; 
the  men  are  conspicuously  absent.  Talking  with 
them  on  the  subject,  they  say  frankly  that  the  en- 
tertainment provided  is  not  to  their  liking.  Divine 
service,  without  good  music,  fine  singing,  and  an 
up-to-date  sermon  from  an  eloquent  preacher,  has 
no  claims  upon  their  consideration. 

I  often  wonder  what  the  children  who  are  sent 
regularly  to  Sunday  School  and  church  think  of 
the  father  who  never  accompanies  them.  They 
must  indulge  in  some  curious  speculations,  because 
there  can  be  no  quibbling,  no  double-shuffiing  con- 
cerning the  issues  involved.  The  children  are 
solemnly  warned  that  he  who  is  not  with  the  God 
of  the  Christians  is  against  him  ;  and  they  are  told 
again  and  again  that  public  worship  is  an  act  of 


Ethical  237 

allegiance,  that  a  Christian  goes  to  church  to  pro- 
claim his  loyalty  and  fealty,  even  as  a  soldier  —  no 
matter  how  well  he  knows  his  drill  —  attends 
parade.  The  men  who  say  that  they  worship  their 
Maker  under  the  blue  dome  of  Heaven  are  styled 
Hue  domers ;  but  these  gentlemen,  T  fancy,  are  not 
likely  to  shatter  their  health  by  a  too  zealous  and 
protracted  observance  of  their  religious  exercises. 
Many  are  professed  Agnostics ;  but  the  Churches 
of  the  West  have  more  to  fear  from  the  men  who 
profess  Christianity  and  do  not  practice  it,  who 
send  their  wives  and  children  to  church,  while  they 
remain  at  home,  who  talk  glibly  of  duties  and 
liabilities  which  they  themselves  ignore,  than  from 
the  disciples  of  Huxley  and  Ingersoll,  whose  influ- 
ence,' like  their  teaching,  is  negative  and  passive. 

And  yet,  religion  —  which  has  been  so  happily 
defined  as  a  charter  of  happiness,  not  a  bill  of  pains 
and  penalties  —  is  not  dead  but  only  sleeping  in 
the  souls  of  these  men.  The  extraordinary  sale  of 
Sheldon's  book,  "  In  His  Steps,"  proves  this.  Accor- 
dingly it  would  seem  that  Protestantism  —  for  I 
am  not  speaking  of  the  Church  of  Eome  —  lacks 
flexibility  ;  it  does  not  adapt  itself  to  the  spiritual 
needs  of  the  breadwinner. 

But  virile  vigorous  teaching  can  only  come  from 
the  mouths  of  virile  vigorous  men ;  and  few  of 
these  are  unselfish  enough  to  enter  professions  ill- 
paid  and  ill-considered.  The  average  American 
father  does  not  wish  his  son  to  be  a  schoolmaster 
or  a  minister  of  the  gospel ;  for,  in  his  opinion, 
these  gentlemen  occupy  a  lower  rather  than  a  higher 
plane  than  the  banker  and  merchant. 


238    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

It  is  pleasant  to  testify  that  there  are  few  Phari- 
sees and  hypocrites  west  of  the  Eocky  Mountains. 
In  this  land  of  sunshine,  men  possess  the  virtue  of 
transparency :  their  deeds,  whether  for  good  or  evil, 
are  not  obscured.  Let  a  drunkard  reel  through 
the  streets,  an  object  lesson  to  all,  rather  than  lie 
whisky-sodden  behind  the  bolted  door  of  his  own 
chamber !  It  is  easy  to  know  the  men  of  the  West. 
They  talk  freshly  and  frankly  upon  all  subjects 
that  are  vital :  religion,  politics,  love,  hate,  the 
topics  which  are  carefully  draped  and  masked  else- 
where. But,  subject  to  that  instinct  for  display 
which  impels  some  bankers  to  pile  their  counters 
high  with  big  gold  pieces,  these  wares  of  life,  too 
garishly  set  forth,  became  shop-soiled  and  cheap- 
ened. When  the  Nevada  Bank  of  San  Francisco 
reopened  its  doors  after  a  certain  financial  crisis, 
the  gossips  predicted  an  immense  show  of  gold. 
They  were  disappointed ;  but  the  verdict  of  the 
Man  in  the  Street  was :  "  We  know  that  they  have 
it ;  why  should  they  show  it  ?"  Millions  lay  in  the 
vaults,  the  more  potent  to  inspire  confidence  be- 
cause unseen. 

If  snobbishness  (as  defined  by  the  Century  Dic- 
tionary) be  a  term  applied  to  one  who  is  servile  in 
spirit  or  conduct  towards  those  whom  he  considers 
his  superiors,  and  correspondingly  proud  and  inso- 
lent towards  those  whom  he  considers  his  inferiors, 
then  the  children  of  the  West  are  not  snobs.  The 
pettiness  and  meanness  which  characterise  the  rela- 
tions between  the  upper,  middle,  and  lower  classes 
of  England  are  conspicuously  absent.  Class  distinc- 
tions increase  and  multiply  in  California ;  but  poor 


Ethical  239 

professional  men  —  doctors,  dentists,  lawyers,  dom- 
inies, and  parsons  —  are  not  snubbed  by  their  more 
prosperous  fellow-citizens.  Teachers  and  preachers 
—  as  I  have  pointed  out  in  another  chapter  — 
are  underpaid;  they  are  not  treated  as  penniless 
curates  and  ushers  in  England  —  with  supercilious 
indifference.  Poverty,  indicating  physical  or  intel- 
lectual weakness,  is  pitied  rather  than  despised. 
An  example  will  make  clear  the  difference  be- 
tween the  two  countries.  An  English  gentlewoman 
of  my  acquaintance  accepted  a  position  as  enter- 
tainer at  a  large  spa.  It  was  her  duty  to  sing  and 
play  in  the  evening ;  but  the  manager  assured  her 
that  if  she  were  known  to  be  upon  the  hotel  staff, 
the  snobs  stopping  under  the  same  roof  would  treat 
her  as  a  servant.  The  lady  accepted  the  hint, 
passed  as  one  of  the  guests,  and  was  overwhelmed 
with  gratitude  and  civility.  In  the  West,  the  same 
lady  would  have  received  more  attention  by  pro- 
claiming herself  to  be  a  professional  working  for 
board  and  lodging. 

And  yet  if  Thackeray's  definition  of  the  word 
"  snob  "  be  accepted :  "  He  who  meanly  admires 
mean  things,"  the  people  of  the  West  cannot  escape 
criticism.  Sharp  practice,  the  meanest  and  most 
detestable  of  social  crimes,  is  almost  universally 
approved.  Doubtless  there  is  much  sharp  practice 
in  England,  but  the  sharpers  do  not  brag  of  it.  An 
English  lawyer  may  fleece  his  client,  a  doctor  may 
overcharge  his  patient ;  but  these  gentlemen  do  not 
publish  to  an  admiring  world  the  amount  of  the 
plunder.  I  know  of  one  case  (amongst  many)  where 
a    "shyster"  lawyer  built  a    ten-thousand-pound 


240    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

house  out  of  the  fees  received  for  the  winding-up 
in  less  than  a  year  of  a  dead  man's  estate.  Strangers 
admiring  the  mansion  are  always  told  the  story. 
One  man  remarked  to  me  that  the  fellow  was  not 
really  as  smart  as  some  supposed,  because  he  might 
have  taken  more. 

Other  mean  things  unduly  admired  in  the  West 
are  parades  and  processions  with  their  dismal  acces- 
sories of  blaring  bands,  fire-crackers,  penny  whistles, 
and  cheap  oratory ;  self-assertion  and  self-advertise- 
ment, and  an  inordinate  appetite  for  show.  These, 
of  course,  are  the  small  defects  of  great  qualities ; 
but  it  is  doubtful  whether  they  are  regarded  as 
defects  at  all  by  the  Man  in  the  Street.  In  com- 
mon with  us,  too,  the  children  of  the  West  have  a 
"  lick-spittle  "  love  of  titles.  Max  O'Eell  said  that 
the  United  States  contained  sixty-five  millions  — 
mostly  colonels,  but  he  said  nothing  about  the 
colonels'  wives.  Mrs.  Doctor  Jones,  Mrs.  Judge 
Smith,  Mrs.  Major  Kobinson  annex  their  husbands' 
titles  with  as  little  scruple  as  they  assume  his  crest 
(if  he  has  one)  on  their  notepaper.  There  is  a  story 
of  one  eminent  jurist  who  refused  peremptorily  to 

allow  his  wife  to  call  herself  Mrs.  Judge  X . 

This  gentleman  was  given  to  the  use,  not  the  abuse, 

of  cocktails,  despite   the  protests  of  Mrs.  X , 

who  was  a  pillar  of  some  temperance  organisation. 
It  happened  one  night  that  his  Honour  returned 
home  for  the  first  time  in  his  long  life  in  a  condi- 
tion which  he  described  afterwards  as  "mellow." 
His  wife  received  him  in  silence,  assisted  him  to 
bed,  and  waited  patiently  till  the  next  morning. 
As  the  judge  was  finishing  his  second  cup  of  tea, 


Ethical  241 

she  remarked  acidulously :  "  Judge,  after  what  oc- 
cured  last  night,  I  shall  for  the  future  call  myself 

Mrs.  Judge  X ."     The  husband  shook  his  head. 

"  Madam,"  he  said,  "  I  regret  as  much  as  you  do 
that  —  er  —  the  unforeseen  came  to  pass  last  night ; 
but  it  has  not,  I  assure  you,  altered  in  any  sense 
our  relation  to  each  other.  I  am  still  judge  of  the 
Supreme  Court  of  California,  and  you,  my  dear,  are 
only  the  same  old  fool  you  always  have  been." 

In  trying  to  understand  the  character  of  a  people, 
it   is  necessary  to  find   the   master-key.     What  is    w 
it  in   the   West?     A  worship  of  the   visible?     If    |  ij.p>^ 
the  answer  be  in  the  affirmative,  many  doors  are    j| 
unlocked. 

In  England,  the  women,  the  very  best  of  them, 
profess  an  ethical  standard  lower  than  it  ought  to 
be,  because  they  wish  to  please  the  men.  In  the 
West,  the  men  profess  a  higher  standard  (and  pro- 
fess it  not  the  least  hypocritically)  because  they 
wish  to  please  the  women  —  and  children. 

This  wish  to  please  —  a  delightful  trait  —  has, 
when  pushed  beyond  certain  limits,  a  corroding 
effect  upon  character;  it  leads  to  the  shirking  of 
disagreeable  duties,  to  a  morbid  fear  of  giving 
offence,  to  a  tolerance  of  evil  which  soon  becomes 
indifference;  it  ends  by  making  pleasure  —  that 
form  of  pleasure  which  exacts  continuous  change 
and  excitement  —  the  supreme  good. 

According  to  Arnold,  education  is  an  atmos- 
phere. If  this  be  so,  it  is  important  that  the  air 
should  be  kept  fresh  and  pure.  Fresh  it  is  in  the 
West;  is  it  pure?  Let  the  parents  answer  that 
question.     More,  are  they  soberly  of  the  opinion 

16 


242     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

that  the  free-and-easy,  go-as-you-please,  what-'s-the- 
odds-as-long-as-you-'re-jolly  atmosphere  of  so  many 
Western  homes  is  free  from  baneful  germs,  the 
more  deadly  because  invisible  ?  The  optimist  con- 
tending that  all 's  well  with  the  world  is  a  better 
fellow  than  the  pessimist  who  maintains  the  con- 
trary. Give  me  the  joyous  colours  of  hope,  not  the 
sable  of  despair,  the  shield  of  Ivanhoe,  not  the  Dis- 
inherited Knight's.  And  yet  the  creed  of  that 
sneering  host  (enrolled  beneath  the  banner  of  some 
fifth-rate  De  la  Kochefoucauld)  who  holds  that  evil 
underlies  all  human  conduct,  that  the  good  action 
is  inspired  by  the  bad  motive,  touches,  as  extremes 
always  do  touch,  the  vainglorious  "  I  believe  in  — 
myself"  of  the  rising  generation. 

Of  political  immorality,  the  wholesale  bribing  of 
legislatures,  municipal  corporations,  debauching  of 
the  Press,  —  I  use  the  words  current  in  California, 
—  something  has  been  already  said.  When  the 
secret  history  of  California  is  given  to  the  world, 
it  will  be  admitted  that  such  men  as  the  late 
Senator  Stanford,  for  instance,  was  absolutely  forced 
either  to  fight  the  devil  with  his  own  weapons,  or 
sacrifice  the  efforts  and  earnings  of  a  lifetime.  It 
is  certainly  not  for  Englishmen  who  know  anything 
of  their  own  political  history  to  throw  even  the 
smallest  pebble  at  such  men.  I  hold  no  brief  for 
expediency,  but  in  the  development  of  new  coun- 
tries it  would  seem  that  good  does  follow  bad,  and 
that  a  state  may  be  compelled  to  take  one  step 
backward  before  taking  half  a  dozen  forward. 

There  is  an  almost  universal  desire  to  live  in- 
tensely, rather   than   peacefully   and  comfortably. 


Ethical  243 

The  native  son  talks  contemptuously  of  "  rusting 
out;"  he  assures  you  that  he  proposes  to  wear 
out.  I  have  never  liked  to  tell  him  to  his  face 
that  it  is  quite  possible  to  rust  out  and  wear  out 
at  one  and  the  same  time.  I  submit  that  a  man 
is  rusting  when  he  avoids,  whether  of  choice  or 
necessity,  the  good  company  of  books,  pictures, 
and  men  wiser  than  himself ;  when  he  is  blind  to 
the  freshness  of  fields  wet  with  dew,  to  the  glory 
of  the  skies ;  when  he  is  deaf  to  the  music  of  the 
woods.  The  mills  of  work-a-day  life  in  the  West 
grind  exceeding  slow,  and  the  rust  lies  thick  upon 
the  men  between  the  stones ;  but  they  do  not  know 
it,  or  knowing  it,  do  not  care.  Juvenal's  famous 
line  will  occur  to  some  of  my  readers :  Et  propter 
vitam  Vivendi  perdere  causas.  What  is  more  pa- 
thetic than  the  spectacle  of  a  strong  man  who 
has  gained  his  millions  and  lost  his  capacity  for 
enjoying  life?  I  can  tell  you.  The  spectacle  — 
so  often  seen  in  the  West  —  of  the  man  who  has 
atrophied  all  the  diviner  qualities  in  the  quest  of 
wealth  which  he  does  not  find. 

Some  of  my  readers  will  remember  an  anecdote 
of  Bethel,  afterwards  Lord  Westbury.  He  was 
famous  as  one  of  the  most  able  and  unscrupulous 
lawyers  of  his  day.  In  one  of  his  cases  he  had 
instructed  his  junior  to  call  him  promptly  if 
the  unforeseen  presented  itself.  Shortly  after  the 
junior  sent  for  him,  and  informed  his  chief  that 
a  certain  judgment  had  been  cited  by  opposing 
counsel  which  practically  blew  them  out  of  the 
water;  further  argument,  in  the  junior's  opinion, 
would  be  wasted.     Bethel  rose  to  reply.     He  ad- 


244     L»^f^  ^^^  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

mitted  frankly  that  the  judgment  cited  was  incon- 
testably  adverse  to  his  client's  cause  ;  and  then,  with 
his  accustomed  fluency  and  most  impressive  man- 
ner, he  proceeded  to  show  that  this  judgment  had 
been  reversed  on  appeal,  and  was  therefore  worth- 
less. Opposing  counsel  was  silenced.  Bethel's 
case  was  won.  Some  weeks  after  the  junior 
came  to  him  in  chambers.  "Do  you  know,"  said 
he,  "I  cannot  find  any  record  of  that  judgment 
cited  by  X ,  nor  of  its  reversal  on  appeal.  In- 
deed I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  such  a  judgment 
was  never  given." 

"Ah,"  murmured  Bethel,  in  a  voice  indescrib- 
ably bland  and  insinuating,  "that  is  also  my 
impression." 

This  story  is  not  irrelevant,  because  in  the  West 
such  smart  practice  is  admired  and  imitated.  The 
gain  is  obvious ;  the  loss  hard  to  compute.  Those 
interested  in  such  matters  may  examine  the  vol- 
umes of  the  California  Eeports  which  record  the 
history  of  certain  trials  connected  with  land  titles. 
To  the  student  of  ethics  I  would  commend  in  parti- 
cular the  case  of  the  Kancho  de  la  Laguna  de 
Merced,  and  the  case  of  the  Gabilan  Eancho.  In 
these,  as  in  a  hundred  other  somewhat  similar 
cases,  might  drove  right  to  the  wall ;  but  the  end  is 
not  yet. 

The  late  Mr.  G.  W.  Steevens,  in  his  amusing 
"Land  of  the  Dollar,"  speaks  of  the  Pacific  Slope 
as  "rapid."  I  cannot  endorse  the  adjective.  Mr. 
Steevens  spent  less  than  a  week  in  San  Francisco, 
and  his  own  movements  were  so  very  "  rapid  "  that, 
like   a   child   in   an   express   train,   he   may   have 


Ethical  245 

thought  that  he  was  standing  still  and  that  every- 
thing else  was  going  to  Jericho  at  the  rate  of 
sixty  miles  an  hour.  Fond  mothers  reading  Mr. 
Steevens'  prose  would  doubtless  sooner  send  their 
sons  to  Jericho  instead  of  San  Francisco.  And  yet, 
humiliating  as  it  may  be  to  admit  it,  San  Francisco 
is  not  in  any  sense  more  "  rapid "  than  other  big 
cities.  Time  was  when  she  set  a  terrible  pace ; 
but  to-day  she  "goes  slow"  in  all  things,  as  the 
merchants  will  testify.  Los  Angeles,  lacking  nine- 
tenths  of  the  advantages  possessed  by  the  metro- 
polis, moves  much  faster. 


XIV 
BIG  GAME  SHOOTING 


xrv 

BIG  GAME  SHOOTING 

IF  you  want  first  class  bear-shooting  to-day,  you 
must  go  to  British  Columbia  and  Alaska.  When 
we  came  to  Southern  California,  two  big  grizzlies 
had  just  been  shot  not  far  from  our  cattle  ranch ; 
but  we  never  had  the  luck  to  find  one  in  our 
county,  although  we  hunted  diligently.  One  night, 
I  remember,  a  huge  fellow,  judging  by  his  tracks, 
passed  within  a  few  feet  of  where  my  brother  and 
I  were  sleeping ;  but  a  grizzly  travels  fast  and  far, 
and  owing  to  the  thick  brush  we  were  unable  to 
trail  him  next  day.  Dogs  —  small  terriers  —  are 
almost  indispensable,  and  these  must  be  trained  to 
their  work.  An  old  fellow  in  our  county,  where 
grizzlies  were  once  extraordinarily  plentiful,  has 
told  me  many  yarns,  and,  according  to  him,  Ursus 
Horrihilis  is  as  easily  killed  as  a  big  hog,  if  you  can 
plant  your  first  bullet  in  a  vital  spot.  This  man 
—  he  is  still  alive  —  used  to  shoot  bear  and  deer 
for  a  living,  and  he  shot  more  grizzlies  than  the 
famous  Adams  (whose  book  is  still  the  delight  of 
Californian  boys.)  More,  he  has  the  credit  of  a 
George  Washington  for  unimpeachable  veracity. 
According  to  this  high  authority,  young  grizzly 
bears  often  climb  trees ;  but  when  they  grow  old 
and  unwieldy  they  prefer  the  solid  earth.  Not  far 
from  our  ranch  house  was  a  huge  live-oak  which 


250     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

served  as  a  refuge  for  herders  from  the  attacks  of 
grizzlies.  One  poor  fellow  spent  two  sleepless 
nights  in  this  tree,  and  on  the  following  morning 
he  threw  up  his  job.  His  employer  asked  for 
reasons. 

"You  hired  me,"  retorted  the  man,  "to  herd 
sheep ;  but  I  'm  a  liar  if  I  ain't  bin  a  herdin' 
grizzlies." 

The  vaqueros  used  to  lasso  them.  Upon  one  of 
our  shooting  expeditions,  I  just  missed  seeing  this 
done.  Two  men  we  knew,  sighted  a  monster  trot- 
ting slowly  across  a  piece  of  level  ground.  They 
galloped  up  to  him  and  roped  him  fore  and  aft ; 
then  one  of  the  men  slipped  from  his  saddle  and 
emptied  his  revolver  into  the  bear's  head.  We 
examined  the  hide  of  this  brute,  the  largest  I  have 
ever  seen.  The  foreman  of  the  ranch  swore  that 
he  weighed  eighteen  hundred  pounds;  but  this 
sounds  incredible.  We  marked  particularly  the 
peculiar  formation  of  the  skull,  the  brow  being  set 
at  an  angle  so  acute  as  to  turn  any  bullet  unless 
it  were  fired  from  a  balloon.  For  this  reason  old 
grizzly  hunters  will  warn  the  tyro  not  to  shoot  at 
the  head  of  a  bear  coming  towards  you.  If  you 
have  the  pluck  to  wait  for  him,  he  will  stop  and 
rear  up ;  then  let  him  have  it  in  the  chest.  A  side 
or  flanking  shot  is  the  most  certain. 

My  first  experience  with  bear  is  worth  recording. 
I  was  walking  down  a  path,  leading  my  horse,  and 
looking  for  deer.  Suddenly  my  horse  snorted,  and, 
lo !  four  silver-tips  (a  cross  between  the  grizzly 
and  the  cinnamon)  stood  directly  in  my  path.  At 
the  same  moment  the  horse  tore  the  bridle  from  my 


Big  Game  Shooting  251 

hand  and  galloped  back  to  camp.  Meantime,  the 
bears  had  not  stirred,  although  the  biggest  of  them 
was  staring,  disdainfully,  straight  into  my  eyes.  I 
was  idiot  enough  to  drop  onto  one  knee,  and  to 
fire  pointblank  into  that  grey  grim  face.  The  un- 
earthly roar  that  followed  shook  the  firmament.  I 
can  swear  that  I  was  cool  till  I  pulled  the  trigger, 
but  that  hideous  bellow,  running  the  gamut  of  sound 
between  rage  and  surprise,  and  culminating  in  a 
shrill  scream  of  agony,  undid  me.  The  air  seemed 
to  be  full  of  bears.  In  a  jiffy  I  was  up  a  tree,  rifle 
in  hand.  It  is  my  honest  conviction  that  I  pulled 
myself  up  to  the  first  branch  with  one  hand  :  a  feat 
I  have  attempted  many  times  upon  a  horizontal 
bar,  and  never  accomplished.  Perched  aloft,  my 
wits  returned  to  me.  I  looked  down,  peered 
through  the  leaves ;  the  bears  had  vanished  in  the 
thick  brush.  Then  I  descended  very  cautiously, 
feeling  no  hero. 

Next  day,  my  cousin  and  I  encountered  these 
same  bears,  although  the  biggest  was  not  with 
them  (which  proves  that  my  aim  had  not  been 
amiss) ;  and  we  cornered  and  killed  one  of  them. 
We  wounded  him  badly,  and  he  took  refuge  in  a 
small  patch  of  brush.  Outside  this  we  waited 
patiently,  but  in  vain.  Finally,  I  fired  at  random 
into  the  middle  of  the  patch,  and  then  out  he  came, 
determined  to  kill  or  be  killed.  What  a  fine  fight 
he  fought !  I  suppose  we  were  a  hundred  yards  or 
more  from  him  when  he  waddled,  growling,  from  the 
brush,  and  each  time  we  hit  him,  he  would  stop 
and  roar,  biting  and  scratching  at  his  wound.  But 
he  came  steadily  on,  and  he  never  stopped  till  my 


252     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

rifle  was  against  his  head !  When  we  skinned  him, 
we  found  that  he  had  been  shot  through  the  heart, 
through  the  lungs,  through  the  head,  and  through 
the  loins ! 

Horses  are  terrified  at  the  sight  of  bears,  and  I 
remember  strapping  the  hide  of  this  one  to  the 
pack-horse  we  had  with  us.  Being  somewhat  cun- 
ning in  such  matters,  we  used  the  famous  diamond 
hitch,  and  that  horse  bucked  till  I  thought  he 
would  buck  his  own  hide  off  as  well  as  the  bear's ; 
but  the  hitch  only  tightened.  Then  he  bolted,  and 
we  found  him  when  we  got  back  to  camp,  a  sadder 
and  wiser  animal,  peacefully  grazing,  with  the  bear- 
skin still  on  his  back. 

The  peculiar  quality  of  a  wounded  bear's  roar 
must  be  heard  to  be  appreciated.  We  had  a  cook 
who  one  day  met  a  bear,  and  fired  at  it.  The  bear 
roared  ;  the  cook  fled.  He  came  into  camp  (I  was 
not  there,  but  I  can  vouch  for  the  truth  of  the 
story)  screaming  with  fear;  he  entreated  the 
"  boys  "  to  arm  themselves ;  he  swore  that  the  big- 
gest grizzly  on  earth  was  about  to  join  the  camp,  et 
cetera.  The  camp  listened,  finger  on  trigger,  but  no 
bear  appeared.  Upon  cross-examination  the  cook 
recited  the  facts  :  he  had  seen  the  bear  under  a 
tree ;  he  had  stalked  it ;  he  had  drawn  a  good  bead ; 
he  had  fired.  Then  the  bear  had  pursued  him  to 
within  a  few  yards  of  the  camp.  Finally  the  boys 
set  forth,  and,  lo  !  under  the  tree  where  he  had 
been  first  seen  was  poor  bruin  —  stone  dead,  with 
a  bullet  through  his  heart.  However,  the  cook 
still  maintains  that  the  monster  (he  was  only  a 
small  cinnamon)  pursued  him  for  more  than  a  mile ! 


Big  Game  Shooting  253 

A  bear-hunter  I  used  to  know  well  told  me  a 
story  that  sounds  apocryphal,  but  which  I  firmly 
believe.  He  employed  an  Indian,  who  always  ac- 
companied him.  One  fine  morning  the  pair  sighted 
a  large  wapiti,  which  they  shot  and  wounded.  The 
Indian  took  the  trail ;  but  the  hunter,  knowing  the 
habits  of  wounded  deer,  took  a  short  cut  across 
some  hills,  hoping  to  get  another  shot  at  the  wapiti 
as  it  crossed  a  certain  divide.  He  reached  the 
divide  and  climbed  a  tree.  Presently  the  wapiti 
came  slowly  up  the  steep  slope ;  the  Indian  followed, 
knife  in  hand;  and  then,  behind  the  Indian,  not 
forty  yards  intervening,  waddled  a  huge  bear.  So 
intent  was  the  Indian  upon  his  quarry  that  he  was 
unaware  that  he,  in  his  turn,  was  being  tracked,  till 
a  bullet  from  the  trapper's  rifle  whistled  past  his 
head  and  laid  the  bear  low. 

It  is  certainly  imprudent  to  tackle  grizzly,  silver- 
tip,  or  cinnamon  bears  on  foot  and  alone,  particu- 
lary  in  the  brush  thickets  to  which  they  nearly 
invariably  retreat.  Many  a  seasoned  trapper  has 
been  killed  or  horribly  mangled  because  he  had 
the  temerity  to  follow  a  wounded  bear  into  the 
chaparral.  Two  men,  side  by  side,  can  stop  any 
bear;  but  beware  the  braggart  who  undertakes  to 
show  you  bear  and  to  help  you  kill  them.  I  saw 
one  of  these  fellows  take  to  his  heels  at  a  critical 
moment,  and  he  had  previously  boasted  of  slaying 
three  grizzlies,  single-handed,  in  one  morning !  Upon 
strength  of  this  statement  we  engaged  him  as  guide 
and  protector.  He  never  knew  that  we  came  within 
an  ace  of  shooting  him  as  he  scuttled  away. 

It  would  be  as  well  to  particularly  mention  at 


254     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

this  point  the  unwisdom  of  engaging  scouts  and 
guides  on  no  recommendation  save  their  own.  The 
small  towns  that  lie  upon  the  outskirts  of  the  big 
forests  and  prairies  swarm  with  these  gentlemen, 
and  very  few  of  them  are  worth  a  pinch  of  salt. 
Your  honest  trapper  is  in  the  woods,  not  lounging 
about  a  saloon  or  hotel,  and  it  is  only  he  who  can 
show  you  first-rate  sport,  and  he,  remember,  may 
always  fail.  Pay  him  well,  and  let  it  be  plainly 
understood  between  you  that  he  is  not  to  shoot 
without  orders.  I  remember  one  man  —  a  very 
fine  shot  —  who  advertised  in  the  local  paper  as 
follows:  "John  Doe  undertakes  to  show  gentle- 
men and  sportsmen  wild  goats.  Success  certain. 
It  is  always  your  goat." 

There  are  numbers  of  small  black  bear  upon  the 
Pacific  Slope,  but  these  afford  tame  sport.  They 
are  easily  treed  by  dogs,  and  easily  killed.  In  the 
woods  and  forests  near  the  coast  of  northern  Cali- 
fornia and  Oregon,  you  are  sure  to  find  them  if  you 
are  patient ;  but  all  bears,  remember,  are  extraordi- 
narily cunning  and  gifted  with  amazing  powers  of 
scent.  I  have  been  in  skunk-cabbage  swamps  in 
Vancouver  Island,  where  sign  was  plentiful,  but 
bruin  invisible ;  and  once,  in  British  Columbia,  my 
brothers  and  I  found  a  thicket  where  the  tracks  in 
and  around  the  berry  patches  were  innumerable; 
but  not  a  bear  did  we  shoot  or  see. 

To-day,  the  best  hunting  ground  is  to  be  found 
upon  the  banks  of  the  many  rivers  and  streams  which 
empty  into  the  Northern  Pacific.  All  bears  love 
fish  and  berries,  but,  unfortunately  (for  the  sports- 
man), at  the  time  when  the  berries  are  ripe  and  the 


Big  Game  Shooting  255 

salmon  running  up  the  streams,  the  fur  of  the  bear 
is  not  at  its  best.  The  trappers  like  to  shoot  bruin 
when  he  comes  out  of  his  winter  quarters.  But  his 
spring  coat  soon  becomes  shabby,  and  then  you 
must  wait  till  he  grows  fat  again. 

Keliable  information  can  be  obtained  in  either 
Victoria  or  Vancouver,  and  in  the  former  town  are 
several  famous  sportsmen  who  have  shot  every- 
thing that  may  be  found  in  the  forests  of  the 
North,  from  the  rare  musk-ox  to  the  humble  squir- 
rel. But  these  gentlemen  can  hardly  be  expected 
to  reveal  the  whereabouts  of  their  own  happy 
hunting-grounds.  They  will  gladly  tell  you  what 
to  take  in  the  way  of  impedimenta,  and  what  not 
to  take ;  and  they  will  tell  you  also  not  to  look  for 
caribou  and  sheep  in  the  places  where  these  ani- 
mals have  been  shot  of  recent  years.  If  you  can 
spare  the  time  —  and  big  game  shooting  is  not  to 
be  undertaken  in  a  hurry  —  it  is  wise  to  seek  fresh 
ground,  passing  over  the  old  en  route  to  the  new. 
Some  parts  of  the  country  are  more  open  than 
others,  and  after  the  first  snows,  the  sheep  and 
caribou  are  driven  in  search  of  food  to  ranges  more 
accessible  to  the  hunter.  I  believe  October  and 
November  to  be  the  best  months  for  wapiti,  cari- 
bou, sheep,  and  goats.  The  cold,  it  is  true,  is  often 
intense ;  but  there  are  no  mosquitoes  to  drive  you 
distracted,  and  the  game  is  easily  tracked.  Many 
years  ago,  I  spent  the  month  of  November  in  the 
North  Park  of  Colorado,  and  although  the  mercury 
in  my  thermometer  often  fell  below  zero,  and  al- 
though our  tent  was  as  full  of  holes  as  a  rabbit 
warren,  we  suffered  not  at  all;  and  the  sense  of 


256     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

exhilaration,  of  physical  vigour  and  vitality  was 
delightful.  At  another  time,  my  cousin  and  I  were 
close  to  the  Teton  Basin,  in  Wyoming,  whither  we. 
had  wandered  in  search  of  bison.  We  secured  four 
fine  bulls  (almost  the  last  that  were  shot),  and 
awoke  one  morning  to  find  the  snow  falling,  and 
the  possibility  of  spending  Christmas  in  the  wilder- 
ness staring  us  in  the  face.  For  several  nights 
in  succession  we  slept  out  without  a  tent,  and 
were  none  the  worse;  but  the  tyro  will  do  well 
not  to  stray  far  from  civilisation  when  winter  is 
impending. 

I  cannot  advise  the  "tenderfoot"  to  hunt  for 
wapiti  in  the  woods.  They  may  be  found  in  the 
forests  of  Oregon  and  Washington,  but  only  a 
seasoned  hunter  can  stalk  them  successfully.  The 
labour  of  cutting  a  path  through  dense  woods  is 
inconceivably  trying  to  muscles  and  temper,  and 
your  impedimenta  must  be  carried  on  your  back, 
or  on  the  back  of  your  Indians.  More,  you  may 
shoot  —  as  a  friend  of  mine  did  —  some  magnifi- 
cent specimens,  and  be  unable  to  carry  home  your 
trophies.  Upon  the  Eastern  side  of  the  different 
mountain  ranges  that  stretch  from  Mount  Shasta 
to  the  Arctic  circle,  the  foothills  are,  generally 
speaking,  free  from  heavy  timber.  With  a  good 
field  glass  at  your  eye  you  can  find  your  game,  and 
approach  it  with  the  odds  for,  instead  of  against 
you. 

Wapiti,  the  finest  deer  in  the  world,  are  rapid 
travellers,  and  soon  driven  from  a  country.  It  is 
expedient  to  make  a  rule  not  to  fire  a  single  shot 
when  entering  virgin  country.     I  know  how  tempt- 


Big  Game  Shooting  257 

ing  it  is  to  pot  a  grouse  or  a  rabbit  when  there  is 
nothing  in  the  larder  but  "jerky"  or  bacon,  but 
that  one  shot  may  drive  a  herd  of  these  superb 
beasts  to  other  pastures  a  hundred  miles  away ! 
Once,  I  remember,  we  were  constrained  by  our 
shikarri  to  leave  our  shot  guns  behind  —  a  grave 
mistake.  A  month  later  we  found  ourselves  on 
the  borders  of  barren  lands  where  there  was  no 
big  game  at  all,  and  it  seemed  absurd  to  try  and 
shoot  small  birds  with  Express  rifles  charged  with 
one  hundred  and  twenty  grains  of  powder.  So  we 
borrowed  from  an  old  trapper  we  met  an  ancient 
flint  lock,  almost  in  pieces.  The  barrel  of  it  was 
tied  to  the  stock  with  string,  and  the  flint  would 
not  strike  sparks.  We  were  actually  compelled  to 
fill  the  pan  with  powder  and  ignite  it  by  means  of 
a  match.  After  stalking  a  sage  hen,  one  of  us 
would  take  aim ;  the  other  would  strike  the  match  ! 
Shooting  under  such  circumstances  is  not  an  un- 
alloyed joy. 

Wapiti  often  betray  their  presence  by  whistling, 
a  queer  sound  different  to  the  call  of  a  bull  moose, 
and  quite  indescribable.  The  monarch  of  the  herd, 
he  whose  enormous  antlers  thrill  you  to  the  marrow, 
generally  trots  along  in  the  rear  of  the  others, 
pausing  now  and  again  to  look  round.  I  once 
missed  a  monster  point  blank  at  forty  yards,  be- 
cause I  was  fool  enough  to  think  that  I  could  shoot 
him  from  the  back  of  my  horse.  I  had  had  an 
unpleasant  experience  with  this  same  horse  only  a 
few  days  before,  having  dismounted  in  a  hurry  to 
take  a  snap  shot  at  a  running  antelope.  I  missed 
the   antelope,   and   nearly   lost   the    horse,  for   he 

17 


258     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

absolutely  refused  to  let  me  come  within  twenty 
yards  of  him  for  more  than  four  hot  and  exasperat- 
ing hours.  My  cousin,  who  was  with  me,  dis- 
mounted when  I  did,  and  his  horse  kept  mine 
company.  We  were  in  an  alkali  desert  at  the 
time,  and  when  eventually  our  animals  suffered 
us  to  remount  them,  we  swore  solemnly  that  never 
again  would  we  leave  our  horses  untied.  However, 
to  return  to  my  big  wapiti:  we  had  seen  a  large 
herd  quietly  grazing  on  the  slopes  of  a  bare  hill, 
and  recognising  the  futility  of  trying  to  stalk  them, 
had  sent  a  couple  of  men  to  drive  them  towards  a 
divide  in  the  mountains.  We  galloped  to  the  same 
place,  making  a  detour,  and  only  arrived  just  in 
time.  I  took  up  a  station  some  two  hundred  yards 
from  my  cousin,  and  marked  with  dismay  the 
impossibility  of  tying  my  horse.  Just  then  the 
herd  began  to  ascend  the  slope  at  my  feet,  so  with- 
out dismounting  I  hid  behind  a  rock  and  awaited 
them.  Long  before  I  had  seen  through  my  glasses 
that  the  Nestor  of  them  was  unusually  large,  but  I 
had  formed  na  true  conception  of  his  truly  immense 
size.  I  allowed  all  the  others  to  pass,  and  presently 
he  trotted  by,  very  slowly,  glancing  now  and  again 
at  the  men  half  a  mile  behind  him,  apprehending 
no  danger  from  my  cousin  and  me  who  were  invis- 
ible and  to  windward  of  him.  I  fired  as  he  was 
broadside  to  me,  and  missed  him  clean  with  both 
barrels  of  my  Express.  Before  I  could  reload,  he 
had  passed  my  cousin,  who  blazed  away  at  longer 
range,  and,  being  mounted,  also  missed  him  as 
cleanly  as  I  did.  We  clapped  spurs  to  our  animals 
and  had  a  tremendous  gallop  over  a  very  stiff  and 


Big  Game  Shooting  259 

stony  country,  but  we  never  got  another  shot  at 
our  quarry. 

Talking  of  missing,  I  am  reminded  of  another 
bitter  experience  that  befell  me  many  years  ago 
near  the  Teton  Basin  in  Wyoming.  We  had  left 
our  waggon,  and  taking  a  couple  of  pack-horses, 
made  an  excursion  into  a  desolate  country  known 
as  the  "  Bad  Lands  ; "  bad  they  were  indeed :  bleak 
and  sterile  hills  rising  out  of  alkali  plains  !  But 
here  we  are  told,  and  here  only,  the  last  of  the  bison 
might  be  found,  and  here  we  found  them.  We 
camped  near  a  small  spring  whose  waters  were  as 
those  of  Marah,  and  made  an  early  start  the  next 
day.  Before  ten  o'clock  we  were  nearly  dead  with 
fatigue,  and  consumed  by  an  intolerable  thirst.  The 
sun  streamed  down  upon  the  glistening  alkali  and 
up  again  into  our  aching  eyes ;  the  ground  upon 
which  we  trod  seemed  to  emit  a  sickly  and  over- 
powering heat.  At  noon  my  cousin  returned  to 
camp,  but  I  rode  on,  glass  in  hand,  scanning  eagerly 
hill  after  hill,  seeking  in  vain  that  small  black 
blot  upon  the  brown  landscape  which  would  surely 
prove  a  bull  bison.  And  at  last,  as  I  was  beginning 
to  despair,  I  saw  two  blots.  Bison  they  proved,  but 
how  to  stalk  them  successfully  taxed  imagination 
no  less  than  experience.  Finally  I  dismounted, 
tied  my  horse,  and  began  a  long  and  tedious  stalk. 
I  was  compelled  to  crawl  more  than  half  a  mile, 
lying  face  downward  on  the  burning  sand.  As  I 
crawled  I  was  sensible  for  the  first  time  in  my  life 
of  the  horrors  of  thirst,  for  my  tongue  began  to 
swell ;  but  I  can  swear  that  I  was  happy,  for  my 
ambition,  so  I  thought,  was  about  to  be  not  satisfied 


26 o     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

but  glutted.  We  had  been  assured  by  cattlemen 
and  hunters,  that  the  bison  were  almost  extinct. 
To  procure  a  specimen  we  had  undertaken  a  long 
and  dangerous  journey  into  the  heart  of  an  unknown 
and  sterile  country.  Now,  not  the  prize,  but  the 
prizes,  were  within  range.  It  never  entered  my 
head  that  a  miss  was  possible,  for  as  I  crawled 
nearer,  I  saw  that  these  were  two  immense  bulls, 
big  as  barns,  and  seemingly  quite  unaware  of  my 
approach.  They  were  lying  down  side  by  side.  I 
crawled  on  till  I  came  within  eighty  yards  of  them. 
Then  I  waited  patiently  till  my  heart  stopped  beat- 
ing. Long  before,  I  had  endured  the  rigours  of 
*'  buck  fever,"  and  I  am  sure  that  I  was  as  cool 
as  a  man  could  be  in  such  a  place  and  beneath  such 
a  sun.  But  I  missed  them  both !  I  made  the 
mistake  of  firing  at  them  as  they  lay.  Had  I 
whistled  softly,  they  would  have  risen  and  stood 
still.  I  pulled  trigger  and  saw  the  bullet  strike 
the  sand  just  beyond  them.  They  scrambled 
up  ;  and  fearing  they  would  run,  I  fired  again  with 
no  result.  Then  they  started  towards  me.  In  my 
haste  I  forgot  to  pull  back  the  hammers  of  my 
Express.  I  wrenched  it  open,  and  rammed  in  a 
couple  of  cartridges.  When  I  tried  to  close  the 
breech,  I  realised,  to  my  dismay,  that  the  rifle  was 
jammed.  At  the  same  moment  the  bulls  saw  me, 
and  turned  tail.  I  suppose  they  were  six  hundred 
yards  distant  before  I  got  my  rifle  into  working 
order,  and  then  I  pumped  lead  into  the  air  till 
they  were  out  of  sight.  After  that  I  seriously  con- 
sidered the  propriety  of  shooting  myself.  Life 
seemed  worthless  after  such  a  misfortune.     I  told 


Big  Game  Shooting  261 

myself  that  I  should  never  have  such  a  chance 
again.  A  truly  wretched  man  rode  into  camp  that 
afternoon. 

Next  day,  I  shot  a  splendid  bull,  and  shortly 
after,  another;  but  sportsmen  will  understand  me 
when  I  say  that  life  has  never  been  quite  the 
same  since  the  irreparable  loss  of  those  two  sleep- 
ing beauties ! 

Speaking  of  the  "  Bad  Lands,"  les  mauvaises  terres, 
one  is  reminded  of  the  "  dry  camps."  A  dry  camp 
is  a  place  where  water  is  not.  Nothing  more  for- 
lorn can  be  conceived.  After  a  long  day's  travel  in 
sun  and  wind,  you  are  obliged  to  pitch  your  tent 
where  night  overtakes  you.  The  water  you  carry 
is  hot  and  tainted,  and  the  horses,  poor  beasts,  snuff 
uneasily  as  you  drink  your  thimbleful ;  well  do 
they  know  that  their  thirst  is  not  to  be  quenched. 
Then  the  question  —  an  awful  question  —  arises  : 
"  Shall  we  go  on  on  the  chance  of  finding  some 
spring,  or  shall  we  go  back  ? "  Success  or  failure 
hangs  upon  a  word ;  perhaps  life  or  death !  Uncer- 
tainty wrinkles  the  faces  of  even  the  dogs.  The 
men  in  your  pay  are  sure  to  be  sulky  and  peevish. 
The  wage  paid  to  them  seems,  doubtless,  inadequate. 
The  master,  on  the  other  hand,  finds  the  responsi- 
bility a  grievous  burden  upon  shoulders  already 
stiff  and  aching.  At  such  times  fancy  dwells 
upon  the  comforts  of  a  club.  Hungry,  thirsty, 
dusty,  and  dirty,  one  asks  one's  self :  "  Is  it  worth 
while  ? " 

Looking  back,  I  find  my  memory  tenacious  of  the 
good  rather  than  the  evil.  I  have  endured  many 
dry  camps,  but   I   cannot  faithfully  describe  one; 


262     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

the  outlines  are  blurred.  When  a  man  is  fagged 
out  of  mind  and  body,  sick  at  heart,  as  the  old 
Latin  primer  had  it,  he  takes  no  note  of  form  or 
colour.  Misery  is  grey  and  amorphous.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  pleasant  places  grow  greener  as 
the  years  roll  by.  I  can  vividly  recall  a  certain 
spot  near  a  trout  stream.  Our  larder  was  full  of 
game  :  bear,  venison,  antelope  meat,  and  small  game. 
A  deep,  limpid  pool  invited  us  to  bathe  twice  a  day. 
The  horses  were  up  to  their  knees  in  bunch-grass. 
We  slept  beneath  the  pines,  wooed  to  sleep  by 
their  plaintive  sighs.  We  shot  and  fished  and 
sketched;  we  ate  and  drank  and  slept;  we  were 
perfectly  happy. 

Not  very  far  from  this  Paradise  I  had  a  narrow 
escape.  My  cousin  and  I  were  sleeping  side  by 
side.  It  chanced  that  during  the  previous  day's 
ride  we  had  seen  a  great  many  and  killed  a  few 
rattlesnakes :  a  most  exceptional  experience.  Sud- 
denly my  cousin  woke  up,  and  saw,  by  the  light  of 
the  moon,  a  big  rattler  crawling  across  my  chest. 
He  lay  for  a  moment  fascinated,  watching  the  sinu- 
ous curves  of  the  reptile.  Then  he  quietly  reached 
for  his  six-shooter.  But  he  could  not  see  the 
beast's  head,  so  he  moved  nearer,  and,  lo!  'twas 
not  a  snake  at  all  —  only  the  black  and  yellow 
stripe  of  my  blanket  that  gently  rose  and  fell  as 
I  breathed.  Had  he  fired,  this  book  might  never 
have  been  written,  for  he  confessed  to  me  that  his 
hand  shook. 

Eattlesnakes  have  always  inspired  a  certain  terror 
in  me,  ever  since  I  was  struck  by  one.  Fortunately 
I  was  wearing  a  porpoise-hide  Field  boot  at  the 


Big  Game  Shooting  263 

time,  into  which  the  fangs  entirely  failed  to  pene- 
trate ;  but  I  made  -^  you  may  be  sure  —  the  record 
jump  of  my  life.  Some  Calif ornians  have  never 
seen  one ;  but  once  seen  or  heard,  Crotalus  is  not 
likely  to  be  forgotten. 

The  sportsman  in  search  of  moose  had  better 
make  up  his  mind  to  go  to  Alaska.  He  could  not 
do  better  than  stop  en  route  at  Tacoma,  where  Mr. 
W.  F.  Sheard,  the  taxidermist,  will  be  able  to  give 
him  valuable  information  in  regard  to  the  hiring  of 
Indians,  and  so  forth.  I  had  a  long  talk  with  Mr. 
Sheard  in  the  summer  of  '97,  and  looked  over  his 
collection  of  trophies,  the  finest  (I  believe)  in  the 
world.  I  have  never  had  the  good  fortune  to  kill 
a  moose ;  but  Mr.  Sheard  told  me  that  it  could  be 
done  in  the  swamps  and  woods  of  the  Yukon, 
although  stalking  in  such  places  is  very  hard 
and  disappointing  work.  Since  I  talked  with  Mr. 
Sheard,  other  localities  may  have  been  discovered, 
nearer  to  civilisation,  but  I  much  doubt  it. 

Caribou,  the  Barren-Ground  Caribou  (not  the 
Eeindeer  proper),  may  be  found  in  great  numbers 
in  certain  parts  of  British  Columbia.  According  to 
Mr.  Warburton  Pike,  who  has  studied  their  habits, 
they  annually  migrate  in  huge  herds  to  the  barren 
grounds  north  of  the  Great  Slave  Lake.  The  wood- 
land Caribou  (Kangifer  Caribou)  is  a  larger  beast ; 
and  they  are  still  plentiful  north  of  the  Canadian 
Pacific  line. 

The  Blacktail  (Cervus  Columbianus)  is  found 
from  one  end  of  the  Pacific  Slope  to  the  other.  They 
simply  swarm  in  certain  parts  of  the  north,  and 
the  forests  of  Vancouver  Island  are  full  of  them. 


264     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

In  Southern  California,  in  our  own  county,  they 
were  once  equally  plentiful ;  but  the  market  hunters 
almost  exterminated  them  in  the  early  '80's.  Since 
then  the  laws  for  their  protection  have  been  en- 
forced, and  to-day  they  are  increasing.^ 

The  sportsman  will  find  it  hard  to  see  them  at 
first,  for  the  grey  of  their  coats  melts  at  a  short 
distance  into  the  grey  green  of  the  chaparral.  The 
best  time  to  stalk  them  is  at  dawn  in  the  dark  of 
the  moon,  when  they  are  feeding.  After  a  cold 
night,  you  will  always  find  them  on  the  sunny 
sides  of  the  canons  and  gulches,  and  in  the  middle 
of  the  day  they  will  lie  in  the  thick  brush  near 
the  crest  of  the  hills.  Some  hunters  wait  for 
them  at  the  deer  licks,  but  this  has  always  seemed 
to  me  a  most  tiresome  and  unsportsmanlike  way  of 
killing  them.  They  ought  to  be  stalked,  and  stalk- 
ing in  Southern  California  exacts  much  patience 
and  skill.  The  breaking  of  a  twig  will  drive  them 
out  of  a  canon,  and,  once  afoot,  it  is  almost  hope- 
less to  follow  them.  On  the  other  hand,  when  they 
are  lying  down  in  the  chaparral,  they  will  let  you 
walk  close  up  to  them,  scurrying  away  like  a 
rabbit  at  the  last  moment. 


1  Mr.  Baillie-Grohman  says  that  the  blacktail  (C.  Columhianus) 
is  the  only  deer  found  on  the  Pacific  Slope.  At  the  risk  of  differ- 
ing with  such  a  distinguished  authority,  I  must  submit  that  there 
is  in  Southern  California  a  blacktail  which  would  seem  to  be  a 
cross  between  the  Columbian  and  mule  deer,  not  being  so  big  as 
the  mule-deer  of  the  Rockies,  nor  so  small  as  the  deer  found  in 
Vancouver  Island.  Mr.  Van  Dyke  (author  of  "  The  Still-hunter  " ) 
and  Judge  Cotton  speak  of  this  deer  as  a  variety  of  Macrotis.  The 
mule-deer  proper  of  Wyoming  and  Colorado  is  certainly  not  found 
in  California. 


Big  Game  Shooting  265 

Antelope  (the  Prongbuck)  were  also  plentiful  in 
Southern  California,  and  we  have  seen  them  on  our 
ranch  (and  have  shot  them  on  the  Carisa  Plains 
beyond) ;  but  to-day  they  are  very  scarce  on  the 
Pacific  Slope,  and  in  California  it  is  against  the 
law  to  shoot  them  at  all.  I  have  shot  a  great 
many,  and  have  watched  large  herds  of  them 
in  Wyoming  and  Colorado.  In  California  the 
vaqueros  used  to  ride  them  down,  an  easy  feat, 
if  you  have  a  horse  that  can  both  gallop  and 
stay. 

Antelope  gave  me  my  first  attack  of  buck  fever. 
I  was  in  a  country  where  the  antelope  were  ex- 
traordinarily plentiful,  but  I  could  not  manage 
to  hit  one.  I  could  smash  a  small  bottle  at  a 
hundred  and  fifty  yards  easily  enough;  an  ante- 
lope at  the  same  range  laughed  at  my  bullets. 
However,  I  persevered,  and  one  morning  killed 
a  fine  buck  stone  dead.  After  that  my  nerve 
came  back. 

Sheep  and  goat  are  considered  hard  stalking,  but 
they  are  easily  killed  under  certain  conditions. 
Once,  in  the  Selkirks,  I  shot  six  goats  in  as  many 
minutes.  I  was  above  them,  and  when  I  fired,  the 
herd  ran  straight  at  me.  I  could  have  clubbed 
one  easily.  It  is  well  to  mention  that  I  had  spent 
nearly  ten  hours  in  reaching  my  coign  of  vantage, 
an  almost  inaccessible  peak.  One  of  the  goats  fell 
two  thousand  feet  after  I  had  shot  him;  and  I 
nearly  followed  him  over  the  precipice,  for  the 
snow  at  my  feet  was  crumbly  and  slippery,  and  a 
loose  shale  lay  beneath.  For  the  week  preceding, 
my  brothers  and  I  had  worn  out  shoe  leather  and 


266     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

patience  without  seeing  a  single  goat.  The  month 
was  November,  and  our  camp  thermometer  fell 
each  night  below  zero.  The  stalking,  I  remem- 
ber, was  uncommonly  stiff,  because  the  snow  hid 
all  mantraps,  and  again  and  again  we  tumbled 
ignominiously  between  trunks  of  fallen  trees,  or 
tobogganed  down  slopes,  nilly- willy,  —  misadven- 
tures which  look  trivial  enough  on  paper,  but 
which  discolour  and  distort  the  pleasures  of  big 
game  shooting.  Bad  bruises  mean  sleepless  nights, 
and  sport  without  sleep  ceases  to  be  sport. 

Many  men  think  that  hardships  are  part  of  the 
fun,  but  I  am  not  of  their  opinion.  Hardships,  of 
course,  must  be  endured  cheerfully  and  patiently, 
but  they  need  not  be  sought.  For  instance,  it  is 
folly  to  go  into  the  wilds  ill-equipped  with  food 
and  bedding.  My  cousin  and  I  were  chaffed  by 
the  cowboys  of  Wyoming  because  our  kit  included 
rubber  mattresses  and  rubber  baths.  These  arti- 
cles occupied  little  space,  but  how  largely  they 
added  to  our  comfort ! 

One  of  the  pains  and  penalties  which  wait  upon 
a  sportsman  in  the  wilderness  is  being  lost.  Lost ! 
What  a  word  of  ill  omen !  A  word  that  in  four 
letters  embraces  an  encyclopaedia.  And  the  man 
who  is  cocksure  of  his  bearings,  who  brags  of  his 
bump  of  locality,  is,  generally  speaking,  the  first 
to  go  astray.  Hills  in  a  new  country  are  amaz- 
ingly alike.  A  familiar  contour  beckons  you;  a 
caiion  invites  you  to  enter;  a  stream  prattles 
sweetly  of  banks  higher  up,  where  you  have 
camped  before.  In  the  forest  the  trapper  blazes 
his  trail,  but  in  the  open  foothills  he  must  trust 


Big  Game  Shooting  267 

to  his  compass  and  the  landmarks;  both  often 
mislead. 

I  was  lost  once  for  three  days  in  the  company  of 
a  cook  and  a  box  of  sardines.  There  was  nothing 
to  shoot,  not  even  a  sage-hen,  and  the  sardines 
disappeared  at  the  first  meal.  On  this  occasion  I 
learned  that  a  short  cut  is  the  longest  way  home. 
The  cook  and  I  endeavoured  to  cross  a  range  of 
hills  on  the  other  side  of  which  were  our  camp  and 
supplies  ;  distant  —  so  we  estimated  —  less  than 
twenty  miles  as  the  crow  flies.  We  had  an  empty 
waggon  with  us,  which  we  were  forced  to  abandon 
(we  retrieved  it  later),  and  we  wandered  round  and 
round,  compassless  in  an  unknown  sea  of  small  hills 
and  vales.  Finally  we  struck  the  trail,  and  an 
hour  later  were  sitting  down  to  an  immense  meal, 
but  I  never,  never  stirred  abroad  again  without  a 
compass. 

I  have  said  that  in  my  opinion  the  late  autumn 
and  early  winter  are  the  seasons  when  game  (ex- 
cepting bear)  is  most  easily  stalked  and  shot.  But 
you  must  provide  against  cold,  that  may  prove 
intense.  Blankets  are  a  sorry  protection  during 
nights  when  the  mercury  falls  many  degrees  below 
zero,  and  I  would  strongly  urge  every  sportsman  to 
provide  himself  with  a  sleeping-bag  and  also  a  thick 
Tam  o'  Shanter.  During  one  of  my  expeditions  I 
had  a  professional  antelope-hunter  with  me,  who 
was  supplying  a  railroad  with  venison.  And,  curi- 
ously enough,  he,  a  hardened  veteran,  was  badly 
frost-bitten,  whilst  I,  the  tenderfoot,  escaped  scot- 
free.  We  carried  a  small  stove  amongst  our  im- 
pedimenta,  and  a  blessed  comfort  it  proved,  being 


268     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

a  source  of  light  in  the  long  evenings,  as  well  as 
warmth.  At  the  risk  of  provoking  a  laugh  or  a 
sneer  I  shall  advise  the  tyro  to  add  a  rubber  hot- 
water  bottle  to  his  kit.  Upon  a  night  that  is  likely 
to  prove  extra  cold,  a  good  jorum  of  whisky  and 
water  and  the  hot-water  bottle  in  combination  will 
keep  you  snug  and  warm  when  others  are  shivering. 
It  would  be  unwise  to  use  the  hot- water  bottle 
regularly,  but  in  cases  of  necessity  it  is  worth  its 
weight  in  gold. 

In  conclusion,  Big  Game  shooting,  like  everything 
else  that  is  really  worth  while,  exacts  all  the  virile 
qualities.  A  cheery  resolution  to  meet  disappoint- 
ment and  adversity  with  a  grin  will  tide  a  man 
over  many  a  weary  hour.  For  this  reason  alone  it 
is  well  to  pick  your  "  pal."  A  churl,  no  matter 
what  his  other  qualifications  may  be,  will  poison 
your  pleasure  ;  and  his  sour  looks  will  breed  snarls 
and  growls  amongst  your  hired  men.  Some  mighty 
hunters  prefer  to  hunt  alone  with  a  trusty  Indian. 
Most  of  us,  however,  have  no  stomach  for  pleasures 
unshared  by  a  friend.  Around  the  camp-fire,  I 
have  spent  some  of  the  happiest  hours  of  my  life. 
Would  they  have  been  happy  had  I  been  alone  ?  I 
doubt  it. 

No  man  should  brave  the  hardships  of  the  wilder- 
ness unless  he  be  strong  of  body ;  and  even  the 
strongest  suffer  at  first.  For  a  fortnight  you  sleep 
badly  and  wake  stiff  and  unrefreshed,  but  when 
your  apprenticeship  is  served,  you  reap  a  rare  re- 
ward. The  exhilaration  of  high  health  is  a  gift  of 
the  gods  known  to  few  who  dwell  in  cities.  The 
plain  living,  the  pure  air,  the  hard  exercise,  the 


Big  Game  Shooting  269 

exciting  sport,  bring  an  extraordinary  vigour  and 
vitality ;  and  yet  I  have  seen  men  return  from  the 
hills  and  forests  utterly  worn  out  —  physical  wrecks. 
They  had  tried  to  do  too  much  in  too  short  a 
time. 

Verhum  sap. 


XV 
SMALL  GAME  SHOOTINO  — I 


XV 
SMALL  GAME  SHOOTmG  — I 

UPON"  and  around  our  ranch  were  vast  stretches 
of  low  sage-brush  that  harboured  quail  in- 
numerable. Then  it  was  easy  —  not  so  very  easy, 
for  we  were  rank  shots  —  to  make  big  bags,  and  the 
difficulty  lay  not  in  killing  the  birds,  but  in  the 
disposal  of  them  afterwards.  For  our  neighbours 
had  no  "  use  "  for  quails  (nor  for  sweetbreads,  which 
we  obtained  from  our  butcher  for  nothing) ;  and  in 
time  we,  too,  tired  of  the  bird's  peculiar  flavour.  In 
Kibroth-hattaavah,  we  are  told,  six  hundred  thou- 
sand men  fed  upon  these  birds  for  a  full  month, 
until  the  food  became  "  loathsome "  unto  them ; 
and  it  is  said  in  California  that  no  white  man  can 
eat  one  quail  a  day  for  thirty  consecutive  days : 
toujours  perdrix  ! 

Callipepla  Californica,  however,  must  not  be 
confounded  with  the  bob- white  ( Colinus  Virginia- 
nus),  nor  with  the  tiny  Chinese  quail  who  is  kept 
for  fighting  purposes,  and  to  warm  the  hands  of 
his  owner.  Our  bird  is  the  Beau  Brummel  of  quail, 
a  dandy  at  all  seasons,  even  in  extreme  old  age. 
Who  does  not  admire  his  dapper  surtout  of  grey- 
blue,  his  sporting  waistcoat  of  brown  and  white,  his 
black,  glossy  crest,  his  polished  extremities,  and 
his  charming  manners  in  captivity? 

And  what  superb  sport  he  affords  I 

18 


274     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

Near  the  ocean,  separated  from  it  by  a  long  line 
of  sand-dunes,  blazing  white  in  the  sun,  amethystine 
in  the  shade,  lay  our  quail  grounds.  You  could 
shoot  till  you  were  tired,  then  bathe,  then  lunch, 
then  shoot  again  till  dusk.  It  was  never  too  hot, 
nor  too  cold.  The  sea-breeze  kept  you  company, 
and  in  your  ears  was  the  melodious  roar  of  the 
surf.  The  picture  has  stamped  itself  on  our  mem- 
ories ;  in  the  foreground  the  grey-green  sage-brush, 
soft,  velvety,  and  aromatic ;  then  the  dunes  fring- 
ing the  Pismo  Bay,  and  back  of  all,  the  enchanting 
Pacific,  with  the  long,  smooth  rollers  sliding  across 
its  placid  surface,  and  crashing  upon  the  hard,  dun 
sand.  A and  I  shall  never  enjoy  such  shoot- 
ing again.  The  quail  would  rise  in  enormous 
bevies,  scatter  out,  and  settle  within  fifty  or  a 
hundred  yards.  Then  we  would  advance  slowly, 
the  retrievers  well  to  heel,  and  flush  the  birds, 
singly  and  in  pairs.  One  might  suppose  that  the 
quail  enjoyed  the  fun,  so  willing  were  they  to  lie 
snug,  so  complaisant  in  giving  the  worst  duffer  that 
ever  fired  a  gun  a  dozen  chances.  They  scorned  the 
thickets  in  those  halcyon  days,  and  always  flew 
straight  away,  low  and  fast,  and  on  a  horizontal 

line.      Z ,   a   member   of  the   English   colony, 

counted  himself  the  laziest  man  in  California,  but 
even  he  shot  quail  fifteen  years  ago.  This  youth 
rose  not  with  the  lark,  and,  clad  in  flannel  shirt 
and  trousers,  his  red,  good-natured  face  crowned 
with  a  sombrero,  would  ride  bare-back  —  he  was 
too  lazy  to  saddle  his  pony  —  to  pleasant  Pismo. 
His  bronco,  a  mild  beast,  never  objected  to  carry  a 
light  fishing-rod  beneath  a  coarse  tail,  that  lay  tight 


Small  Game  Shooting  275 

as  the  dorsal  fin  of  a  mackerel,  between  the  gluteal 

muscles.      Z ,  when  questioned,   would   assure 

the  native  sons  of  the  golden  West,  that  in  Eng- 
land, where  the  sun  never  shines,  all  horses,  even 
hunters,  were  so  trained  to  carry  umbrellas  —  and 
many  believed  him  !     The  story  has  an  apocryphal 

twang,   but  it   is  true.     With   Z as   mounted 

escort,  A and  I  would  drive  to  the  shore  in  a 

roomy  spring-waggon  that  held  ourselves,  our  dogs, 
our  ammunition,  and  a  generous  luncheon.  Upon 
the  beach  were  clams,  big,  juicy  clams,  good  when 
fried,  better  still  in  chowder,  and  best  of  all  baked 
in  fragrant  sea- weed ;  but  we  were  faithful,  I  re- 
member, to  sardines,  potted  meats,  foie-gras,  cheese, 
and  marmalade  ;  and  we  drank  freely  of  a  wonder- 
ful brown  sherry,  the  pure  juice  of  the  Calif ornian 
grape  ;  and  we  told  the  old,  old  stories  of  the  birds 
we  had  just  missed.  We  missed  about  three  out 
of  four  shots.  Often  a  stranger  would  join  us, 
generally  a  pot-hunter,  a  ground  sluicer,  whom  we 
held  in  contempt  and  derision  (doubtless  he  thought 
us  extravagant  maniacs),  and  also  in  fear,  justly 
considering  the  condition  of  his  ancient  ram-and- 

dam  gun.     As  a   rule,  A would  dismiss   the 

stranger  with  words  as  sweetly  seductive  as  the 
brown  sherry.  Sometimes  we  would  encourage 
the  unwelcome  guest  to  lie.  Once  we  met  a  youth 
who  swore,  by  Jing !  that  he  never  shot  quail  ex- 
cept on  the  wing. 

"  Are  you  a  good  shot  ?  "  demanded  A . 

"  I  ain't  an  expert  —  yet,"  replied  the  youth 
modestly.  "But  I  pack  home  as  many  quails  as 
most.     Yes,  sir,  I  do  purty  well  fer  a  beginner. 


276     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

purty  dog-goned  well !  Lemme  see.  Now,  yester- 
day I  went  a-huntin',  and  I  packed  along  jest 
ninety-two  cartridges,  —  no,  I  can't  lie  to  ye,  boys, 
't  was  ninety-three.  I  'd  disremembered  that  one 
missed  fire.  Well,  sir,  I  used  up  them  shells,  all 
but  three,  and  I  showed  them  to  maw  when  I  got 
home.  You  can  ask  her  if  it  ain't  so.  I  'd  three 
shells,  gen'lemen,  and  jest  eighty-one  quails  —  all 
single  birds.  Yes,  sir  —  all  shot  on  the  wing. 
Some  day,  boys,  I  hope  to  be  an  expert." 

I  can  see  my  brother's  face  as  he  listened  atten- 
tively to  this  remarkable  yarn. 

"My  boy,"  said  A ,  solemnly,  "you  may  or 

you  may  not  become  an  expert  quail-shot,  but  you 
are  to-day  the  biggest  liar  in  Christendom  —  bar 
none.  And  I  'd  like  to  shake  your  hand,  and  com- 
pliment you.  If  you  '11  stay  with  us  and  tell  us 
one  more  gilt-edged  lie,  we  '11  give  you  lunch  and  a 
glass  or  two  of  sherry." 

The  youth  declined  the  invitation. 

After  a  time  we  learned  to  hit  these  gentle  quail, 
and  others  learned  the  knack;  and  then,  alas! 
came  the  railroad,  and  the  subdivision  of  the  big 
ranches,  and  dozens  of  settlers,  who  slaughtered  the 
birds  in  and  out  of  season,  on  the  ground  and  on 
the  wing,  till  finally  the  sage-brush  that  they  loved 
knew  them  no  more,  and  the  survivors  —  if  sur- 
vivors there  were  —  betook  themselves  to  the  chap- 
arral, to  the  tangled  thickets  of  manzanita,  to  the 
tops  of  the  coast  range,  anywhere  and  everywhere, 
away  from  the  insatiable  enemy.  So  the  golden 
age  of  quail-shooting  passed  away. 

Of  course  some  grounds  still  remain  virgin  terri- 


Small  Game  Shooting  277 

tory,  but  to  reach  these  the  sportsman  must  travel 

far  from  all  settlements,  and  camp  out.     A and 

I  annually  organise  at  least  one  such  expedition, 
and  return  with  strings  of  the  slain,  now  thankfully 
accepted  by  our  neighbours  ;  but  as  both  of  us  are 
more  or  less  tied  to  the  ranch,  we  have  been  con- 
strained to  take  to  the  mountains  close  at  hand,  and 
there  have  learned  at  last  the  art  of  shooting  quail 
with  all  the  odds  in  favour  of  the  bird  and  against 
the  gun.  It  is  a  day  of  small  bags  and  very  hard 
work,  and  we  have  been  forced  to  study  systemati- 
cally the  habits  and  habitat  of  the  game.  Till  a 
sportsman  learns  to  do  this,  he  may  be  said  to  be 
still  unbreeched. 

For  quail  are  crafty  as  foxes.  For  instance,  we 
will  suppose  that  a  bevy  has  been  flushed,  and, 
rising  out  of  range,  has  flown  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
and  lit  in  a  steep  gulch  bristling  with  brambles  and 
scrub-oak,  —  a  favourite  place.  The  veteran  will 
waste  no  time  in  following  his  quarry,  for  he  knows 
that  they  will  run  swiftly  up  the  gulch,  across  the 
crest  of  the  hill,  and  probably  be  lost  in  a  heavily 
wooded  canon  upon  the  other  side.  When  he 
stands,  breathless,  upon  the  spot  where  the  birds 
settled,  he  is  not  surprised  that  they  are  not  there, 
and,  as  he  pauses,  he  probably  hears  a  cock  call 
half-way  up  the  gulch,  "  kah-kah-ka-o-o-w  ! "  In 
reply  there  is  a  peculiar  chatter  from  a  bird,  evi- 
dently concealed  close  by  —  a  sentinel;  and  after 
that  not  a  sound;  but  the  wise  man  will  infer 
that  the  main  body  of  the  bevy  is  running  ahead 
as  fast  as  their  sturdy,  well-muscled  legs  can  carry 
them.    Again,  we  will  assume  that  a  big  band  has 


278     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

been  duly  scattered  and  fair  sport  enjoyed.  The 
guns  have  beaten  the  ground  thoroughly  and  know 
that  perhaps  a  hundred  birds  are  lying  here  and 
there  within  a  radius  of  half  a  mile.  It  is  time  for 
luncheon,  and  men  and  dogs  are  fagged  out.  The 
tyro  will  be  sure  to  sit  down,  eat  his  sandwiches, 
and  discuss  the  sport  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  Not 
so  the  experienced  market-hunter.  He  will  steal 
quietly  away,  and  munch  his  bread  and  cheese  in 
silence  and  seclusion.  Presently  he  will  mark  a 
cock-call,  then  another,  and  another.  Before  an 
hour  has  passed  the  bevy  will  have  reassembled; 
his  dog  will  find  them,  and  perhaps  a  better  bag 
will  be  made  than  before.  The  tyro,  on  the  other 
hand,  must  find  another  bevy,  for  the  quail,  hear- 
ing voices,  have  not  come  together. 

The  finding  of  bevies  in  a  rough  country  is  no 
easy  matter.  Highly  trained  setters,  field-trial  win- 
ners who  range  at  full  speed  are  almost  useless  in 
the  mountains.  If  you  are  happily  able  to  keep 
them  in  sight  they  may  stand  to  birds  in  places 
where  two-legged  creatures  must  crawl.  As  a  rule 
the  market-hunter  finds  his  own  bevies,  drives  them 
into  country  where  the  birds  can  be  picked  up 
when  shot ;  and  for  this  purpose  uses  a  dog  trained 
to  range  within  twenty-five  yards  of  his  master. 
In  a  dry  country  like  ours,  where  springs  are  scarce, 
the  dogs  should  be  lean  as  a  coyote,  hard-footed,  for 
sticker-grass  abounds,  with  the  keenest  eyes  and  a 
sensitive  nose.  An  English  setter,  trained  by  a 
market-hunter,  is  in  our  opinion  the  best  dog  for 
work  in  the  coast  range,  but  some  prefer  the  pointer. 
My  brother  still  owns  a  veteran,  half-spaniel,  half- 


Small  Game  Shooting  279 

setter,  who  was  a  wonder  in  his  youth.  He  is  not 
quite  so  accomplished  as  the  retriever  we  have  all 
heard  of,  who  would  stand  on  his  hind-legs,  shade 
his  eyes  with  a  paw,  and  mark  down  wounded 
birds  falling  half  a  mile  away;  but  he  made  less 
mistakes  and  retrieved  his  quail  more  quickly 
and  noiselessly  than  any  thoroughbred  I  ever  saw. 
However,  we  never  used  him  to  find  the  bevies ; 
that  part  of  the  work  we  learned  to  do  for  our- 
selves. After  rain  and  heavy  fog,  the  birds  will 
always  be  met  with  in  the  low  brush,  in  sunny 
sandy  patches,  or  amongst  warm  sandstone  boul- 
ders. Upon  fine  mornings  you  are  sure  to  flush 
them  at  the  head  of  small  canons.  Upon  piping- 
hot  days  they  seek  the  thickest  brush  and  water, 
if  water  may  be  found.  They  have  regular  roost- 
ing-places  and  invariably  work  towards  home  of  an 
evening.  If  it  be  raining  you  will  explore  the 
dense  manzanita ;  and  then,  if  you  can  drive  them 
into  low  brush,  they  will  lie  like  stones,  and  the 
whole  bevy  can  be  exterminated  by  a  ruthless 
pot-hunter. 

The  bevy  "  located,"  you  will  do  well  to  consider 
the  direction  of  the  wind  and  the  general  lie  of  the 
country  before  planning  the  campaign.  Upon  the 
intimate  knowledge  of  a  dozen  seemingly  unimpor- 
tant trifles  hangs  success ;  one  mistake  spells  fail- 
ure, fatigue,  and  demoralisation  of  dogs  and  men. 
The  northern  slopes  of  the  foot-hills  are  covered 
with  high  chaparral,  and  the  quail  will  make  a 
desperate  effort  to  reach  what  they  know  by  long 
experience  to  be  sanctuary. 

One  fine  morning,  last  October,  we  found  a  big 


28o     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

bevy  at  the  head  of  a  canon  situated  between  our 
ranch  and  the  ocean.     There  were  three  of  us,  the 

right  number,  A and  I  and  our  guest,  a  famous 

shot  in  the  old  country,  hard  to  beat  upon  the 
moors  or  at  a  hot  corner,  but  a  heavy-weight,  not 
quite  at  his  ease  beneath  a  Californian  sun.  To 
our  left  lay  a  fine  stretch  of  sage-brush,  intersected 
with  small  gulches ;  above  this  some  open  ground, 
and  yet  higher  some  steep  sandstone  cliffs.  We 
decided  to  drive  our  birds  into  the  sage,  if  Diana 
permitted ;  and  by  spreading  out,  by  shouting,  and 
with  furious  tapping  of  brush  and  branches,  suc- 
ceeded in  scattering  the  quail  over  the  delectable 
slope.  Then,  in  a  straight  line,  our  friend  in  the 
centre,  we  breasted  the  brush.  Suddenly  a  single 
bird  whirled  into  the  air,  turned  sharply  to  the 
right,  and   whizzed   at  a  double   angle  behind  us 

and   downhill.      A dropped   him   stone    dead 

with  his  second  barrel,  and  then  asked  our  guest, 
at  whose  feet  the  bird  rose,  why  he  had  not  fired. 
Bruno  trotted  up  with  the  quail,  and  the  stranger 
examined  it  with  interest.  "  By  Gad ! "  he  ex- 
claimed, with  a  jolly  laugh,  "  it 's  not  eight  inches 
long,  and  it  frightened  me  out  of  my  wits  1 "  Five 
minutes  later  we  are  in  the  thick  of  what  may  be 
called  the  hardest  and  finest  wing-shooting  in  the 
world.  The  birds,  with  a  strong  trade  wind  behind 
them,  twist  and  turn  like  snipe,  dodging  in  and  out 
of  the  taller  bushes,  flying  upward,  downward,  to 
the  right  and  left,  skimming  the  ground,  facing  the 
guns  sometimes,  in  a  plucky  attempt  to  regain  the 
thick  woodland  behind  us,  and  presenting  in  short 
every  conceivable   kind  of   shot.     Fortunately  we 


Small  Game  Shooting  281 

are  fresh  and  in  wind,  so  we  kill  half  of  the  birds 
fired  at,  —  a  fair  average  in  a  rough  country.  In 
three   quarters   of  an   hour   the   fun  is   over,   the 

runners    are   retrieved,  and   A opines  that  a 

dozen  quail  may  be  flushed  in  the  cliffs  above  us. 
Climbing  these  is  stiff  work,  and  a  brace  escape 
untouched  as  we  stagger  on  to  the  summit.  Here, 
a  detour  is  made  in  the  hope  of  turning  what  birds 
may  be  found  into  the  brush  we  have  just  left. 
Nor  are  we  disappointed.  The  quail  lie  snug 
amongst  the  warm  boulders,  and  when  flushed 
fly    back  —  dropping    like    bullets   down    a    well. 

A misses  four  in  succession,  and  his  dog  looks 

at  him  in  solemn  disgust.  After  fifteen  years'  prac- 
tice we  confess  that  the  knack  of  killing  quail  drop- 
ping with  folded  wings  down  a  precipice  has  not 
yet  been  vouchsafed  us.  Two  angles  —  for  the 
birds  curve  outwards  —  must  be  nicely  calculated, 
and  also  the  speed  of  the  object,  which  varies 
according  to  the  strength  and  direction  of  the 
wind.  The  reader,  at  ease  in  his  arm-chair,  will 
kindly  remember  that  a  cliff  has  just  been  scaled, 
that  each  man  carries  fifty  cartridges,  some  dead 
birds,  and  his  luncheon,  and  that  none  of  us  is  a 
youth.  Thoroughly  blown,  we  sit  for  a  moment 
beneath  the  shelter  of  a  scrub-oak,  and  Prince,  with 
lifted  head  and  paw,  advises  us  that  a  quail  is  con- 
cealed in  the  thick  foliage  above.  He  must  be 
dislodged  by  a  stone,  then  he  will  fly  slantwise 
from  the  top  of  the  tree,  close  his  wings,  and  drop. 

A offers  to  bet  our  guest  two  to  one,  in  cigars, 

on  the  bird.  It  is  agreed  that  the  shooter  must 
himself  shy  the   stone  and   then   fire.     Our  guest 


282     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

wins  the  bet,  and  quite  recovers  his  temper.  The 
night  before  he  had  talked  rather  contemptuously 
of  quail-shooting;  now  he  is  humble,  but  very 
enthusiastic. 

We  spend  ten  minutes  on  the  summit,  inhaling 
the  crisp,  fragrant  air,  and  pointing  out  the  different 
landmarks.  Below,  to  the  west,  lies  the  Pacific. 
The  herring  are  in  the  bay,  and  we  can  see  the 
big  pelicans  a-fishing,  accompanied  by  their  para- 
sites, the  gulls.  Some  streamers  of  grey  mist  steal 
quietly  across  the  waters,  and  out  of  a  fog-bank  to 
the  north  comes  the  weird  scream  of  a  siren.  We 
tell  our  visitor  of  the  fish  we  have  caught  in  this 
summer  sea.  We  point  out  the  marshes  where  we 
have  slain  hecatombs  of  ducks.  Through  the  low- 
lying  land,  like  a  silver  serpent,  winds  the  creek 
that  once  swarmed  with  trout,  and  at  its  mouth  we 
have  caught  and  still  can  catch,  steel-head  trout, 
that  take  the  fly  and  afford  glorious  sport  for  a  too 

brief  season  each  year.     A points  out  a  deep 

canon  where  black-tailed  deer  may  still  be  found, 
and  sighs  as  he  speaks  of  the  countless  herds  of 
them  that  roamed  through  these  foot-hills  in  the 

seventies  and  early  eighties.     A is  a  laudator 

temporis  acti,  and  not  without  reason. 

Then  we  descend  the  cliff,  and,  passing  through  the 
sage-brush,  bag  a  few  more  birds.  The  day  being 
very  warm,  we  are  constrained  to  beat  the  thickest 
covers,  and  flush  at  last  another  bevy,  that  swings 
into  a  gulch  and  from  thence  scatters  into  high 
chaparral.  We  walk  through  the  thicket  close 
together,  and  miss  many  snap-shots.  A  woodcock, 
flitting  through   hollies,  is  an  easier  mark  than  a 


Small  Game  Shooting  283 

quail  whizzing  between  scrub-oaks  and  grease-wood. 
Soon  the  brush  becomes  impassable,  so  we  sit  down 
and  wait.  Presently  a  cock  calls,  and  our  ears 
catch   an    answering   note    from   a   distant   gorge. 

A glances   at   me  and   shrugs  his   shoulders. 

We  know  that  a  monstrous  bevy  rises  in  this 
gorge,  but  it  is  a  labour  of  Hercules  to  dislodge 
it.  Fired,  however,  by  the  presence  of  our  friend, 
we  agree  to  make  an  attempt  after  luncheon.  So 
we  retreat  to  a  spring,  water  the  setters,  eat  our 
sandwiches,  smoke  our  pipes,  and  then  plunge 
doggedly  into  a  wilderness  of  manzanita.  The 
stiff,  red  branches  scourge  us  pitilessly  as  we 
struggle  through,  and  before  many  minutes  have 
passed  the  three  of  us  are  on  hands  and  knees, 
crawling  at  snail's  pace  up  a  steep  hill.  After 
twenty  minutes'  climbing,  when  hope  deserts  us, 
when  hearts  beat  furiously  against  ribs,  and  every 
bone  and  sinew  protests  against  a  further  advance, 
we  hear  a  soft  cluck,  cluck,  cluck  —  as  of  feeding 
chicks,  then  silence,  and  then  a  vibrant  whir-r-r, 
the  frenzied  fluttering  of  a  thousand  wings,  a  thrill- 
ing sound,  sweeter  in  our  ears  than  the  hel  canto  of 
a  Trilby,  a  sound  that  begins  fortissimo  and  melts 
in  an  enchanting  diminuendo  into  silence.  We 
know   where   the   birds    have   gone,   and   a   laugh 

breaks  from  A 's  lips.     The  choir  invisible  has 

flown  straight  up-hill  to  a  potrerOy  a  piece  of  table- 
land covered  with  low  brush,  an  ideal  spot  for 
quail-shooting.  The  October  sun  is  blazing  hot, 
and  the  perspiration  streams  from  our  faces  as  we 
crawl  up  and  onwards,  but  the  heat  will  anchor 
the  birds  as  surely  as  if  strings  were  tied  to  them ; 


284     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

so  we  rejoice  and  smile  grimly,  thinking  of  the 
prospective  slaughter  of  the  innocents. 

When  we    tumble  into  the  open,  A calls  a 

halt,  and  we  sip  a  little  whisky  diluted  with  cold 
tea,  and  examine  our  guns.  Then  we  advance 
slowly,  our  fingers  tingling  for  the  trigger.  We 
have  agreed  to  fire  if  the  bevy  rises  out  of  range, 
so  as  to  scatter  the  birds,  and  when  we  do  flush 
them,  a  moment  later,  are  amazed  at  the  number- 
The  sun  is  almost  eclipsed,  and  they  spread  out  as 
in  the  heaux  jours  d'antan,  fan-shaped,  settling  like 
a  soft,  blue-grey  cloud  amongst  the  feathery  lupin 
and  sage. 

We  made  a  tremendous  bag,  for  the  birds,  living 
secure  in  what  was  practically  a  sanctuary,  had 
seldom  been  shot  at,  and  were  comparatively  speak- 
ing tame.  They  were  flushed  in  pairs  and  threes ; 
and  our  friend  bolstered  a  reputation  that  had  been 
sorely  tested  during  the  morning.  But  of  course 
such  sport  is  accidental:  A and  I  count  our- 
selves lucky  if  we  bag  a  dozen  birds  apiece  after 
eight  hours'  hard  work.  It  is  safe  to  prophesy  that 
the  quail  in  the  coast  ranges  will  never  be  exter- 
minated, as  few  sportsmen  are  willing  to  undergo 
exercise  that  puts  to  the  proof  brains,  lungs,  heart, 
and  muscle.  All  said  and  done,  I  know  of  no  finer 
sport.  It  is,  and  always  will  be,  the  sport  of  Cali- 
fornia. You  shoot  ducks  standing  at  ease  behind 
a  blind;  you  kill  snipe  wading  leisurely  through 
a  marsh;  you  bring  your  wood-pigeon  down  from 
the  skies  as  you  lounge  cool  and  collected  beneath 
the  shelter  of  the  oak  whose  acorns  are  the  bird's 
food.     But  quail  —  unless  you  are  prepared  to  wan- 


Small  Game  Shooting  285 

der  far  afield  (and  then  the  disposal  of  the  game 
presents  an  almost  insoluble  problem  to  the  ama- 
teur) —  quail,  I  repeat,  must  be  hunted  scientifi- 
cally and  killed,  as  has  been  said,  with  the  long 
odds  in  favour  of  the  bird. 

They  pair  in  February,  and  the  first  brood  hatches 
out  about  the  end  of  April,  the  second  about  the 
last  of  June.  When  the  hen  begins  to  lay  the 
second  batch  of  eggs  the  male  takes  charge  of 
the  first  brood.  Often  the  birds  do  not  pair,  but 
remain  in  bevies,  although  the  females,  without 
doubt,  lay  eggs  in  another's  nest.  If  the  hen  be 
killed,  the  cock  will  hatch  out  the  brood,  and  he 
sits  on  the  eggs  while  his  mate  is  feeding. 

Longfellow  uses  the  verb  pipe  in  connection  with 
the  bob-white,  — 

"  It  was  autumn,  and  incessant 
Piped  the  quail  from  shocks  and  sheaves  ; " 

but  pipe  expresses  inadequately  the  peculiar  note 
of  the  Californian  bird.  Indeed,  no  musical  instru- 
ment, save  the  human  throat,  can  produce  a  perfect 
imitation  of  a  cock-quail's  call.  I  believe  them  to 
be  accomplished  ventriloquists,  using  their  art  con- 
sciously. A  killdee  will  lure  a  boy  from  her  nest 
by  pretending  to  flutter  along  the  ground  as  if 
badly  wounded.  And  a  quail  is  surely  more  in- 
telligent than  a  ring-plover. 


XVI 
SMALL  GAME  SHOOTING  — n 


XVI 
SMALL  GAME  SHOOTING.  — II 

BESIDES  quail  —  duck,  swan,  geese,  snipe,  grouse, 
pheasants,  pigeons,  doves,  ptarmigan,  hares, 
and  rabbits  may  be  shot  upon  the  Pacific  Slope. 
We  used  to  make  tremendous  bags  of  duck,  but 
to-day  it  is  impossible  to  secure  more  than  a  few 
birds  in  marshes  where  ten  years  ago  they  were 
slain  by  the  hundred.  In  certain  parts  of  California 
and  Oregon  there  are  Duck  Clubs,  the  exclusive 
preserves  of  millionaires,  but  public  opinion,  as  I 
have  already  said,  is  bitterly  opposed  to  game  pre- 
serving, and  the  law  imposes  but  a  trifling  fine  for 
trespass.  In  consequence  the  Club  records  show 
a  decrease  in  the  numbers  of  birds  shot,  and  the 
price  of  a  canvasback  in  a  good  restaurant  is  some 
eight  shillings. 

In  the  good  old  days,  the  ducks  flew  low,  and 
seldom  left  the  marshes.  Four  guns  properly  posted 
were  sufficient  to  keep  them  flying  up  and  down  the 
sloughs  from  dawn  to  dusk.  To-day  they  fly  high, 
almost  out  of  range,  and  soon  depart  for  the  ocean, 
returning  to  their  feeding-grounds  after  dark.  The 
big  ducks,  like  canvasbacks,  mallards,  and  sprigs, 
fly  at  a  tremendous  pace  (some  say  ninety  miles  an 
hour),  and  to  tear  them  down  out  of  the  skies  taxes 
the  skill  of  the  sportsman  and  the  quality  of  his 
gun.  As  they  sail  over  your  right  or  left  shoulder, 
it  is  necessary  to  aim  well  forward  of  the  tip  of  the 


290     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

near  wing,  for  shot  are  dropping  at  sixty  yards,  the 
initial  velocity  (eleven  hundred  feet  to  the  second, 
I  believe)  being  less  than  is  generally  supposed. 
As  a  rule  the  shot  goes  under  the  bird.  I  can  com- 
pare this  kind  of  shooting  with  that  of  killing  high 
rocketing  pheasants  driven  out  of  hill  coverts  over 
guns  posted  in  a  valley.  As  with  the  pheasants, 
you  must  swing  your  gun  with  the  bird  and  con- 
tinue the  swing  after  you  pull  the  trigger.  The  same 
golden  rule  holds  good  with  ducks  flushed  out  of 
rushes.  They  are  rising  fast,  and  unless  the  gun 
rises  at  the  same  angle  and  pace,  the  bird,  although 
seemingly  an  easy  shot,  is  missed  or  tailed.  Speak- 
ing of  driven  pheasants  reminds  me  of  amazing 
blunders  made  by  Americans  upon  this  subject.  For 
instance,  so  brilliant  a  writer  as  Mr.  Charles  Lummis 
in  his  excellent  book  on  Mexico  (I  cannot  quote 
verbatim)  sneers  at  the  Englishman  who  shoots  at 
battues.  According  to  these  critics  tame  pheasants 
flutter  up  in  clouds  before  the  guns,  and  are  ruth- 
lessly slaughtered.^    Not  a  paper  of  any  importance 

1  Since  writing  the  above  paragraph  I  have  read  a  book  on 
America  called  "  The  Land  of  Contrasts,"  written  by  Mr.  Muir- 
head.  Mr.  Muirhead  is  an  Englishman,  and  in  the  chapter  on 
Sports  and  Amusements  he  goes  out  of  his  way  to  stigmatise  a 
pheasant  "  shoot "  at  Highclere  Castle  as  "  a  long  drawn-out 
massacre  of  semi-tame  animals."  Amongst  the  guns  was  Lord  de 
Grey,  the  finest  game-shot  in  the  world.  Those  who  have  had 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  Lord  de  Grey  shoot  know  that  he  cares 
nothing  for  easy  shooting ;  that  he  prefers  to  stand  back  of  the 
gims  where  the  "  rocketers "  present  the  hardest  shots.  Mr. 
Muirhead  says :  "  It  is  certain  "  (the  italics  are  mine)  "  that  the 
pheasants  in  the  bag  must  have  been  nearly  as  tame  as  barn-door 
fowls."  It  is  sufficient  to  add  that  Mr.  Muirhead,  who  writes 
most  ably  and  convincingly  upon  most  topics,  is  here  writing 
nonsense.     He  can  never  have  seen  a  good  "  shoot "  in  his  life ; 


Small  Game  Shooting  291 

upon  the  Pacific  Slope  has  withheld  criticism  upon 
this  subject.  Grouse  drives,  partridge  drives,  pheas- 
ant drives  provoke  bilious  comment.  It  would  be 
impossible  here  to  write  a  full  defence  of  methods 
approved  by  the  cream  of  English  and  Continen- 
tal sportsmen,  but  it  may  be  observed  that  driven 
birds  are  never  easy,  but  on  the  contrary  very  dif- 
ficult shooting.  They  fly  at  a  high  rate  of  speed ; 
if  hit,  they  are  generally  killed,  and  they  present 
an  infinite  variety  of  shot.  The  old-fashioned 
sportsman  liked  to  see  his  dogs  work  —  and  who 
does  n't  ?  —  but  modern  agriculture,  which  strips  the 
fields  of  stubble,  has  made  this  form  of  sport  impos- 
sible in  England.  More,  the  old-fashioned  sports- 
man, accustomed  to  shoot  his  birds  from  behind, 
would  be  sure  to  miss  a  rocketing  pheasant  driven 
at  him.  Indeed,  so  far  as  these  big  and  rather 
clumsy  birds  are  concerned,  the  only  sportsmanlike 
way  to  kill  them  is  by  driving,  and  when  they  are 
flying  over  tall  trees  with  a  wind  behind  them  it 

and  any  English  sportsman  could  have  told  him  that  the  pheasants 
at  Highclere  do  not  present  easy  shots.  These  birds,  that  in  his 
ignorance  the  writer  alludes  to  as  barndoor-fowls,  come  out  of  the 
Highclere  coverts  high  up  and  flying  as  fast  as  it  is  possible  for 
pheasants  to  fly.  To  make  such  a  bag  as  Mr.  Muirhead  records, 
the  most  extraordinary  skill  and  endurance  on  the  part  of  the  guns 
are  required.  If  the  old-fashioned  sportsman  attempted  to  fire  off 
as  many  cartridges  as  Lord  de  Grey  did  on  this  occasion  he  would 
probably  be  taken  home  on  a  litter,  paralysed  in  his  muscles  and  a 
prey  to  a  splitting  headache.  Mr.  Muirhead  and  gentlemen  like 
him  who  write  of  English  institutions  should  be  more  careful. 
The  international  misapprehension  of  so  many  subjects  which  Mr. 
Muirhead  deprecates  is  largely  due  —  as  I  have  said  before  —  to 
ignorance.  Who  would  blame  Mr.  Lummis  should  he  accept  Mr. 
Muirhead's  indictment  of  battue-shooting  as  "  confirmation  strong  " 
of  his  own  published  opinions  1 


292     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

takes  an  artist  to  touch  them.  Having  digressed,  I 
may  as  well  continue  down  a  path  which  has 
always  proved  thorny  to  me.  English  sport,  as 
practised  by  the  finest  shots  and  riders  in  England, 
seems  to  be  entirely  misapprehended  in  America, 
particularly  in  the  West.  Years  ago,  I  remember 
a  long  article  on  fox-hunting  which  appeared  in  a 
first-class  weekly  paper.  From  beginning  to  end 
the  writer  displayed  an  ignorance  of  his  subject 
that  was  absolutely  monumental.  I  wrote  an 
answer,  temperately  worded,  giving  a  few  statistics, 
stating  what  fox-hunting  represented  in  dollars  to 
English  farmers,  the  number  of  men  employed, 
the  number  of  horses  bred  for  hunting,  and  so 
forth.  My  letter  was  not  inserted.  It  would  be 
well  for  writers  about  to  abuse  modern  English 
methods  of  shooting,  to  consult  some  text-book 
(there  are  many)  of  sport,  and  to  learn  what  these 
methods  mean  for  the  masses.  Not  only  do  thou- 
sands of  men  find  healthy  and  remunerative  employ- 
ment, but  hospitals  and  countless  poor  families 
throughout  the  land  are  given  large  quantities  of 
wholesome  and  delicious  food.  It  is  not  too  much 
to  say  that  if  the  game  laws  of  England  were 
abolished,  game  would  never  be  eaten  at  all  save 
by  the  very  rich  who  could  afford  to  import  it. 

None  the  less,  nearly  all  men  not  past  the  prime 
of  life  prefer  good  wild  shooting  when  they  can  get 
it.  And  to  most,  a  mixed  bag  has  superlative 
charms.  We  seldom  returned  from  the  marshes 
without  mallard,  canvasback,  sprig,  redheads,  teal, 
widgeon,  and  snipe,  with  here  and  there  a  goose  or 
brant,  and   very  occasionally   a   swan.     There   are 


Small  Game  Shooting  293 

other  varieties  of  duck,  —  spoonbills  (very  poor  eat- 
ing), wood-ducks,  and  butter-balls,  —  but  the  first- 
named  gave  us  the  finest  sport. 

We  imported  a  Berthon  boat,  which  would  fold 
up  and  lie  easily  in  the  bed  of  an  ordinary  spring- 
waggon.  The  boat  held  two  persons  and  proved 
most  useful,  although  very  easily  upset.  As  a 
rule  we  stood  in  high  rushes,  wearing  long  "  gum- 
boots,"  with  decoys  spread  out  upon  the  water 
in  front.  You  crawled  into  your  "stand"  before 
daybreak,  and  mighty  cold  work  it  was,  turning 
out  of  warm  blankets  into  half -freezing  water.  As 
retrievers  for  ducks  we  found  nothing  better  than 
spaniels :  most  of  them  are  slow,  but  they  keep 
warm  and  are  easily  trained.  In  the  East,  I  am 
told,  they  employ  trained  ducks  as  decoys,  but  I 
have  never  seen  them  in  the  West.  Some  of  the 
market-hunters  use  duck-calls,  but  the  note  must 
be  faithfully  reproduced  or  the  ducks  will  take  no 
notice  of  it.  And  every  variety  of  duck  has  a 
different  quack. 

I  shall  never  forget  those  early  mornings  in  the 
marshes :  skies  and  water  of  the  colour  of  amber, 
the  marshes  russet,  with  here  and  there  a  patch  of 
emerald,  —  the  bright  green  moss  of  some  quagmire. 
Peering  out  of  the  tall  "  tules "  we  could  see  the 
duck  approaching.  The  widgeon  were  innumer- 
able —  lines  and  lines  of  them.  As  they  saw  the 
glint  of  our  barrels  they  would  soar  up,  and  the 
morning's  light  would  blaze  on  their  breasts.  Com- 
ing straight  over  your  head  you  wait  till  the  bird  is 
lost  at  the  end  of  the  swinging  gun ;  then  — pull, 
and  down  he  comes  —  stone  dead  —  with  a  mighty 


294    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

splash  I  The  canvasback  and  mallards  fly  higher 
and  faster  in  more  solid  phalanx.  The  wings  of 
the  widgeon  seem  to  whistle :  a  sound  not  to  be 
mistaken,  but  the  heavier  ducks  come  with  a  whir 
and  a  rattle.  Soon  the  morning  shoot  is  over  and 
you  return  to  camp  and  breakfast  with  many  birds 
at  your  belt.  Oh,  those  cheery  breakfasts!  And 
the  good  tobacco  afterwards,  and  the  talk  and  the 
chaff!  Then  the  guns  are  wiped  out,  the  cartridge 
belts  refilled,  and  you  draw  lots  to  determine  upon 
whom  the  task  devolves  of  flushing  the  ducks  for 
others  to  shoot  at.  Not  till  evening  will  the  birds 
fly  of  their  own  accord. 

Fortune  ordains  that  the  shortest  straw  is  drawn 
by  you,  so  you  walk  briskly  off  to  the  lower  end 
of  the  marsh,  while  the  others  post  themselves  at 
different  points.  You  will  have  plenty  of  fun  and 
plenty  of  hard  work  before  you  see  camp  again. 
Just  round  that  corner  is  a  small  pool  screened  by 
low  rushes,  a  favourite  feeding-place  of  the  mal- 
lards. Listen,  and  you  will  hear  them.  As  you 
crouch  down,  your  spaniel  crouches  too,  and  to- 
gether you  steal  through  the  rustling  grasses.  Con- 
found it!  They  are  not  to  be  caught.  With  a 
mighty  whir-r-r,  and  Homeric  quackings  the  splen- 
did birds  take  wing.  You  watch  them  fly  up  the 
marsh  —  too  high  up,  you  think,  for  the  ambushed 
guns.  Not  so.  Even  as  you  strain  your  eyes  into 
the  blue,  two  of  the  birds  fall,  and  the  double  report 

of  the  gun  floats  to  your  ears.     Good  old  A ! 

His  sixteen-bore  (which  the  market- hunters  regard 
as  a  pretty  toy  in  comparison  with  their  huge  ten- 
bores)   has  vindicated  the   famous  name  upon   its 


Small  Game  Shooting  295 

barrels.  As  you  plod  on  you  hear  another  double 
shot  and  turn  sharply,  but  the  ducks  are  now 
beyond  your  sight.  Halt !  What  is  that  ?  A  line 
of  geese,  grey  geese,  not  the  white  and  uneatable 
variety.  Are  they  to  be  stalked?  For  be  it 
known  that  the  grey  goose  is  a  wily  bird,  hard 
to  kill  as  a  Boer  burgher  behind  the  rocks  of  his 
veldt.  Anyhow  it  is  worth  a  trial,  so  you  tie  the 
spaniel  —  much  to  his  dismay  —  to  a  sage-bush, 
and  stop  his  whimpering  with  a  gentle  cuff.  Then, 
flat  on  your  stomach,  you  wriggle  slowly  towards 
the  thin  grey  line.  Presently  you  stop,  for  as  luck 
would  have  it,  a  cowboy  is  riding  near  the  geese. 
They  will  let  him  come  quite  near,  and  he  may 
take  a  pop  at  them  with  his  six-shooter.  Then 
the  odds  are  they  will  fly  over  your  head.  Just 
so.  The  geese  rise  majestically,  and  the  old  gander 
leading  them  steers  straight  for  the  Polar  Star. 
The  birds  fly  in  a  "  V  "-like  wedge,  one  behind  the 
other,  and  you  pick  out  the  third  on  the  left.  By 
Jove !  They  must  be  higher  up  than  you  sup- 
posed. You  have  hit  the  fourth.  He  comes  sail- 
ing down  with  a  broken  wing,  and  you  give  him 
the  second  barrel  as  he  tries  to  make  off  into  the 
rushes.     What  a  superb  bird  it  is ! 

The  spaniel  licks  your  hand  as  you  untie  him, 
and  smells  delightedly  the  goose,  which  you  hide 
at  the  foot  of  the  sage-bush.  There  is  now  a  big 
piece  of  shallow  water  in  front  of  you  covered 
with  widgeon.  These  you  flush  for  the  benefit  of 
those  behind  you.  They  rise  far  out  of  range  and 
presently  you  hear  a  fusillade  from  the  north. 
Here  they  come  back  again.     You  are  snug  behind 


296     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

a  clump  of  "  tule,"  and  get  a  nice  right  and  left  as 
they  whistle  over.  One  falls  dead  at  your  feet; 
the  other,  wounded,  strikes  the  slough,  and  the 
spaniel  is  after  him  in  a  jiffy.  The  duck  dives 
and  the  dog  is  puzzled.  He  turns  to  you  implor- 
ing eyes.  You  wave  him  toward  a  mass  of  weed. 
There  is  a  flounder  and  a  gurgle.  Good  dog ! 
What  a  nose  he  has ! 

At  the  lower  end  of  the  marsh  you  flush  a  jack- 
snipe  and  miss  him  clean.  Evidently  the  early 
rains  and  heavy  frosts  in  Oregon  have  sent  the 
snipes  south.  This  will  be  glorious  news  to  take 
back  to  camp.  Meantime  you  are  stirring  up  the 
duck,  getting  a  few  shots  here  and  there  and  driv- 
ing them  north.  The  "  boys  "  are  blazing  away  and 
must  have  a  bag  already.     Gad  !  how  hot  it  is ! 

When  you  return  to  camp,  the  guisado,  or  Spanish 
stew,  is  scenting  the  air,  and  you  fall  to  with  an 
appetite  worthy  of  it.  The  recipe  for  this  savoury 
dish  is  as  follows :  Into  a  large  iron  camp-pot  you 
put  some  butter,  in  which  you  fry  brown  a  couple 
of  large  onions  carefully  shredded.  Then  you  add 
the  contents  of  two  big  tins  of  tomatoes  and  three 
dried  chillies.  Plenty  of  salt  and  what  game  may 
be  in  camp  fill  the  pot.  The  whole  must  simmer 
in  the  embers  of  a  camp  fire  for  four  hours.  After 
eating  your  lawful  share  of  this  you  can  say  with 
the  poet, — 

"  Fate  cannot  harm  me,  I  have  dined  to-day." 

If,  however,  you  consume  more  than  is  needful. 
Indigestion,  masquerading  as  Fate,  may  present  a 
bill  of  pains  and  penalties. 


Small  Game  Shooting  297 

After  dinner  comes  the  inevitable  nap,  the  siesta 
of  the  Lotus  Land,  and  then  the  camp  is  put  in 
order.  At  five  you  prepare  for  the  evening  shoot. 
Then  follows  supper,  and  the  yarns  and  songs  of 
the  camp-fire  ;  and  so  —  as  old  Pepys  has  it  —  to 
bed. 

Snipe-shooting  is  perhaps  more  fascinating  than 
any  other  kind  of  sport  because  it  comes  so  seldom. 
In  our  county  I  have  known  a  couple  of  years  to 
pass  without  our  bringing  to  bag  more  than  a  few 
birds.  And  even  in  the  best  of  seasons,  they  come 
and  go  mysteriously  :  here  in  legions  to-day  —  gone 
to-morrow. 

We  had  the  right  of  shooting  snipe  in  a  marsh 
belonging  to  a  friend  of  ours,  and  here  we  have 
passed  many  days  for  ever  marked  with  red.  Our 
friend  was  a  Southerner,  upon  whose  genial  face 
hospitality  was  writ  large,  and  his  wife  was  a 
Scotchwoman,  a  daughter  of  the  Land  of  Cakes ;  so 
you  may  believe  that  we  fared  well  beneath  their 
roof.  Kot  only  were  the  snipe  plentiful,  but  we 
were  sure  also  of  shooting  many  ducks  —  widgeon 
especially  —  and  bordering  the  marsh  was  some 
capital  quail-ground.  Shooting  snipe  is  a  knack ; 
a  knack,  however,  that  some  men  never  acquire, 
partly  perhaps  for  lack  of  practice,  and  partly  be- 
cause they  will  shoot  at  the  bird  as  it  goes  away, 
instead  of  just  above  it.  A  snipe  rises  as  it  flies, 
a  quail  does  not,  and  I  have  seen  good  quail-shots 
miss  snipe  after  snipe  although  —  as  they  always 
explain  to  me  afterwards  —  they  were  "  dead  on  " 
to  their  bird. 


298     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

Most  men  wear  long  gum-boots  when  walking 
through  a  marsh,  but  they  make  the  feet  very  hot, 
and  unless  they  fit  perfectly  are  likely  to  chafe  the 
heel  badly.  My  brothers  and  I  found  that  light 
shoes  and  stockings,  which  could  be  quickly  changed 
and  dried,  were  the  proper  foot-gear,  and  in  these 
we  could  tramp  up  and  down  a  marsh  all  day  in 
perfect  comfort. 

In  a  country  where  stock  is,  —  cattle,  hogs,  and 
horses,  —  look  for  your  snipe  in  those  parts  of  the 
marsh  where  the  stock  has  broken  the  ground. 
This  is  a  hint  worth  having,  for  we  have  noticed 
without  exception  that  the  birds  always  select  such 
places ;  and  often  we  have  tramped  over  miles  of 
seemingly  splendid  snipe-ground  without  flushing 
a  bird,  and  then  crossing  a  fence  into  an  enclosure 
used  by  hogs,  have  filled  our  bags. 

You  cannot  work  your  ground  too  carefully,  for 
snipe,  when  they  are  not  wild,  lie  close,  —  another 
reason  which  accounts  for  many  misses.  A  great- 
uncle  of  mine  told  me  to  murmur  "  snipe  on  toast " 
before  pulling  the  trigger  —  capital  advice,  by  which 
I  have  profited.  It  is  curious  why  a  snipe  should 
upset  the  nerves,  but  most  sportsmen  will  testify 
that  it  is  so.  His  peculiar  "  scape  "  as  he  swiftly 
and  silently  whirls  into  the  air  startles  even  the 
veteran  ;  because,  perhaps,  it  is  in  itself  an  exclama- 
tion of  surprise. 

In  the  West  (perhaps  in  the  East  also)  the 
tenderfoot  is  sure  to  be  told  of  an  original  and 
certain  method  of  catching  snipe.  The  "  boys " 
will  solemnly  assure  him  that  snipe  will  fly  into  an 
open  sack  at  night,  provided  a  lighted  candle  or  a 


Small  Game  Shooting  299 

lantern  is  held  behind  it.  The  travelling  sports- 
man will  do  well  to  listen  with  keen  attention  to 
this  ancient  joke,  and  to  accept  with  pleasure  an 
invitation  to  hag  snipe,  insisting  of  course  that  his 
kind  friends  should  accompany  him  to  the  nearest 
marsh.  When  he  has  set  his  sack  and  lit  his  candle, 
he  can  slip  back  to  camp,  and  the  expression  upon 
the  faces  of  the  others  when  they  return  will  be 
worth  seeing. 

Grouse  and  pheasants  are  found  for  the  most  part 
in  the  northern  woods,  and  it  is  seldom  that  more 
than  a  few  birds  can  be  shot  in  a  day,  There  are 
many  varieties  of  grouse,  and  many  local  names  for 
the  same  variety.  Prairie-hens,  sage-hens,  and 
ptarmigan  are  grouse,  but  the  birds  most  common 
in  the  woods  of  the  Northwest  are  Canace  ob- 
scurus  and  Canace  Canadensis.  Canace  obscurus  is 
aptly  called  the  Fool  Hen,  for  the  bird  will  sit  on 
a  pine  bough  and  allow  you  to  shoot  at  it  again 
and  again.  For  such  sport  a  rook  rifle  is  the  only 
weapon  (or  a  pistol).  We  appreciated  these  birds 
most  in  a  pie.  The  other  grouse  are  not  so  easily 
bagged,  but  the  shooting  of  them  at  any  time  is 
poor  sport  compared  with  that  afforded  by  quail 
and  duck  and  snipe.  Of  pheasant-shooting  on  the 
Pacific  Slope  I  am  not  qualified  to  write,  having  had 
little  of  it.  Attempts  have  been  made  to  breed  and 
preserve  the  English  variety  (Phasianus  colchicus), 
but  —  so  far  as  I  am  aware  —  with  little  success. 
The  bird  found  in  Oregon  comes,  I  believe,  from 
Japan  (versicolor),  and  does  well  in  certain  places. 
It  would  be  extremely  interesting  if  the  State  of 


300     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

California  would  undertake  the  breeding  and  pres- 
ervation of  the  English  pheasant  in  some  such 
place,  let  us  say,  as  the  Yo  Semite  Valley,  which 
might  be  made  a  sanctuary.  A  pheasant  is  ex- 
tremely delicate  when  young,  but  an  old  bird  is 
hardy  enough,  and  I  am  of  the  opinion  that  a  sus- 
tained and  practical  effort  to  add  this  splendid 
specimen  to  the  list  of  Californian  game-birds  would 
be  crowned  with  success. 

Dove-shooting  is  capital  fun.  In  southern  Cali- 
fornia the  doves  are  to  be  found  in  most  stubble 
fields  after  harvest,  but  only  the  tyro  will  care  to 
shoot  them  as  they  flutter  up  in  front  of  the  gun. 
The  sportsman  will  take  his  stand  toward  sunset 
near  some  pool  or  spring*  where  the  birds  fly  to 
water.  If  the  spot  is  properly  chosen,  he  will 
have  an  hour's  excellent  sport.  The  birds  fly  at  a 
great  pace,  presenting  every  kind  of  shot,  circling 
and  swooping,  now  high,  now  low,  and  being  about 
the  same  size  as  a  snipe  are  no  easy  mark.  In  our 
part  of  California  and  particularly  upon  our  ranch, 
the  dove-shooting  used  to  be  superb,  but  it  is  to- 
day only  middling,  for  reasons  that  I  am  unable  to 
guess  at.  Certainly  much -more  land  is  ploughed, 
and  the  doves  feed  on  the  wheat  and  barley  that 
is  left  on  the  fields,  and  the  weed  known  as  dove- 
weed  still  grows  in  profusion,  but  the  birds  are 
decreasing  in  numbers.  Fat,  they  are  nearly  as 
good  to  eat  as  ortolans ;  lean,  they  are  only  fit  for  a 
pie.  Curiously  enough,  we  never  experienced  the 
slightest  difficulty  in  disposing  of  our  dead  doves. 
Nothing   exasperates   a   man  more   than  to   shoot 


Small  Game  Shooting  301 

game  which  cannot  be  eaten,  and  I  have  seen  the 
day  when  a  brace  of  mallard  were  hardly  worth  a 
"  thank  you  "  to  our  neighbours,  but  the  doves  were 
never  refused. 

Speaking  of  game  as  food  reminds  me  that  all 
over  the  Pacific  Slope,  ducks,  snipe,  and  quail  are 
as  a  rule  vilely  cooked.  I  except  the  clubs,  a  few 
restaurants,  and  of  course  many  private  houses. 
The  ducks  are  overdone  and  sometimes  stuffed  with 
sage  and  onions !  The  quail  are  split  in  two  and 
broiled.  The  snipe  are  robbed  of  their  trail  and 
baked  till  they  are  dry  and  tasteless.  Quail  in 
particular  demand  considerable  care  in  the  cook- 
ing, and  —  if  the  weather  permits  —  should  be 
well  hung.  Many  housewives  skin  them!  They 
should  be  carefully  plucked,  draped  with  bacon, 
and  roasted.  The  more  you  baste  them,  the  better 
they  will  be,  and  they  should  be  served,  like 
English  partridges,  with  gravy  and  breadcrumbs. 
We  always  add  bread-sauce  (against  which  there 
is  a  prejudice  in  the  West),  and  enthrone  them  on 
squares  of  crisp,  well-buttered  toast.  There  are 
many  other  methods,  but  this  preserves  the  deli- 
cate flavour  of  the  bird  and  prevents  the  flesh 
from  becoming  dry  and*  tough.  In  camp  we  cook 
them  with  tomatoes  and  corn,  allowing  them  to 
simmer  for  hours,  and  so  treated  they  may  be 
highly  commended.  The  Indians  covered  them, 
feathers  and  all  with  clay,  and  placed  them  in  hot 
embers ;  then  the  clay  was  chipped  off,  the  feathers 
coming  away  with  it,  and  the  bird  eaten.  I  have 
tried  this  recipe,  —  only  once. 

The  wood-pigeons  are  plentiful  in  the  fall  of  the 


302     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

year  when  the  acorns  are  ripe.  If  the  acorn  crop 
fails,  you  see  few  pigeons,  and  at  all  times  they 
are  very  wild.  However,  in  the  morning  and  even- 
ing they  fly  across  certain  divides  in  the  hills,  and 
a  couple  of  guns  posted  behind  blinds  may  enjoy 
good  sport  for  an  hour  or  two.  Here  again  you 
are  confronted  with  the  difficulty  of  giving  away 
your  birds,  for  the  wood-pigeon  is  a  tough  customer 
to  eat,  as  he  is  to  kill,  and  his  flesh  often  has  a 
bitter  and  unpalatable  flavour. 

Of  the  hares  (jack-rabbits)  and  rabbits  (the 
cotton-tail),  there  is  not  much  to  be  written.  I 
can  remember  the  time  when  jack-rabbits  were 
never  eaten,  and  the  prejudice  against  them  still 
lurks  in  the  breast  of  the  Native  Son.  When  free 
from  disease  they  are  a  wholesome  and  delicious 
food,  and  make  a  civet  fit  for  Lucullus.  In  Fresno, 
where  the  jack-rabbit  is  a  plague,  the  farmers 
systematically  drive  the  rabbits  into  an  enclosure, 
where  they  are  killed  by  the  thousand.  In  some 
parts  they  are  coursed;  and  in  early  days  the 
vaqueros  used  to  ride  them  down,  —  a  by  no  means 
easy  feat.  For  a  reason  that  I  cannot  logically 
defend,  this  form  of  sport  always  seemed  to  me 
cruel.  I  once  saw  a  rabbit  chased  by  a  horseman, 
and  at  the  end  it  leaped  from  a  high  cliff  into  the 
Pacific.  But  the  argument  that  would  condemn 
the  vaquero  would  condemn  also  the  fox-hunter, 
so  I  made  no  protest  at  the  time,  although  I  have 
never  taken  part  in  that  particular  form  of  sport 
again.  The  ethics  of  the  chase  are  in  a  Gordian 
knot  that  I  for  one  am  unable  to  cut. 

The  cotton-tail,  darting   from   bush   to  bush,  is 


Small  Game  Shooting  303 

good  to  shoot,  and  when  shot  good  to  eat,  —  his  flesh 
being  white  and  delicate  in  flavour  as  a  chicken's. 
They  abound  in  the  brush  foot-hills  and  have  fur- 
nished food  to  many  a  poor  squatter. 

Sportsmen  coming  to  the  Pacific  Slope  for  the 
small  game  shooting  will  not  be  disappointed  if 
they  engage  as  guide  a  professional  market-hunter. 
I  have  always  found  these  men  to  be  capital  fel- 
lows, excellent  shots,  fair  camp-cooks,  and  learned 
in  the  lore  of  Arcadia.  They  will  provide  the 
camp  equipage,  dispose  of  the  birds  shot,  and  good 
sport  will  be  assured.  Commission  merchants  in 
Portland,  Tacoma,  San  Francisco,  or  Los  Angeles 
will  furnish  the  traveller  with  the  names  and  ad- 
dresses of  a  dozen  Nimrods.  It  is  wise,  also,  to 
have  a  chat  with  the  local  gunsmith.  He  will  be 
glad  to  sell  you  your  cartridges  and  to  give  you 
some  practical  hints.  But,  remember,  information 
gleaned  at  second-hand  must  always  be  well  salted. 
And  in  making  a  contract  with  a  market-hunter,  it 
will  be  wise  on  your  part  to  fix  his  remuneration 
according  to  the  sport  he  shows  you.  You  can 
afford  to  be  generous  if  he  takes  you  to  the  best 
places,  and  your  money  will  be  well  spent. 


XVII 
SEA  FISHING 


20 


XVII 
SEA  FISHING 

THE  fish  to  be  described  in  this  chapter  are 
the  tuna,  the  king-salmon,  the  albicore,  the 
yellow-tail,  the  black  bass  (or  Jew-fish),  the  hali- 
but, the  bonito,  and  the  barracuda.  These,  taken 
with  rod  and  line,  will  furnish  the  sportsman  with 
three  months'  ample  entertainment. 

The  following  excerpt  from  an  article  written  by 
my  friend  Professor  Charles  F.  Holder  for  the  Cos- 
mojpolitan  magazine  is  worth  quoting :  — 

"  The  activity  of  the  tuna  is  only  comparable  to  that  of 
the  tarpon.  I  have  seen  them  leap  ten  or  fifteen  feet  in 
the  air,  while  they  have  been  known  to  jump  over  the 
boats  in  pursuit  of  them.  Sportsmen  from  the  East  have 
devoted  weeks  to  this  fish,  hoping  to  win  fame  and 
honour  by  taking  one  on  a  rod,  but  so  far  the  tuna  has 
harvested  the  rods,  reels,  and  lines,  and  is  still  master  of 
the  situation." 

Since  those  lines  were  written  in  '95,  some 
twenty-nine  sportsmen  have  succeeded  in  bringing 
this  superb  fish  to  the  gaff.  The  first  was  killed 
by  Col.  Morehouse,  of  Pasadena,  in  1896. 

As  the  tarpon  is  to  the  fish  that  swim  in  Atlantic 
waters,  so  is  the  tuna  to  the  finny  tribes  of  the 
Pacific.  Conceive,  if  you  can  —  for  imagination 
staggers  behind  reality  —  a  gigantic  mackerel  from 


308     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

five  to  seven  feet  in  length,  and  weighing  from  one 
to  three  hundred  pounds,  —  a  marvel  of  strength, 
speed,  symmetry,  and  colour,  which  bears  about  the 
same  relation  to  the  coarse  and  monstrous  black 
bass  that  the  royal  Bengal  tiger  does  to  the  hippo- 
potamus, or  Phoebus  Apollo  to  Daniel  Lambert! 

My  introduction  to  this  prince  of  the  Pacific  was 
on  this  wise.  My  brother  and  I  were  trolling  for 
yellow-tail  off  the  Island  of  Santa  Catalina.  The 
sun  had  just  risen  above  the  low  fog-banks  that 
obscured  the  mainland,  and  was  dispersing  with 
gentle  authority  the  children  of  the  mist  that 
loitered  upon  the  face  of  the  waters.  Around  us, 
in  palest  placidity,  was  the  ocean  —  vast,  vague,  and 
mysterious ;  abeam,  snug  in  the  embrace  of  bare 
brown  hills,  slumbered  the  tiny  town  of  Avalon. 
We  could  see  plainly  the  red  fagade  of  the  big 
hotel,  the  gleaming  canvas  of  a  thousand  tents,  and, 
dotting  the  surface  of  the  bay,  long  rows  of  pleas- 
ure boats,  gay  with  white,  green,  yellow,  and  blue 
paint,  whose  reflected  colours  danced  and  sparkled 
with  joyous  significance;  for  these  tender  tints, 
resolved  into  sound,  murmured  a  rondo  of  recrea- 
tion and  rest,  —  a  measure  enchanting  to  the  ears 
of  work-a-day  Californians,  whose  holidays  are  so 
few  and  far  between. 

Suddenly,  out  of  the  summer  sea,  a  flying-fish  — 
the  humming-bird  of  ocean  —  flashed  athwart  our 
bows;  and  then,  not  a  dozen  yards  distant,  the 
waters  parted,  and  a  huge  tuna,  in  its  resplendent 
livery  of  blue  and  silver,  swooped  with  indescrib- 
able strength  and  rapidity  upon  its  quarry,  catching 
it,  mirahile  dictu  !  in  mid-air.     In  a  fraction  of  a 


LEAPING   TUNA    CAUC.HT    liY    (HAS.    V.    IKH.DER. 


Sea  Fishing  309 

second  the  deed  was  done ;  the  ocean,  recording  the 
splash  of  the  leviathan,  rippled  applause ;  and  our 
questions  pattered  like  hail  upon  the  somewhat 
hard  understanding  of  our  boatman,  a  son  of 
Alsace. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  his  white  teeth  in  curious  con- 
trast to  a  lean,  bronzed  face,  —  "  yes,  messieurs,  that 
is  a  tuna,  —  a  two-hundred-pounder,  at  least !  " 

Then  he  swore  stoutly  that  they  were  not  to  be 
taken  with  rod  and  reel.  There  were  men,  not  more 
than  two  or  three,  who  boasted  that  they  had  killed 
tuna  with  nothing  more  formidable  than  a  ten-ounce 
rod  and  three  hundred  yards  of  fine  tarpon-line. 
These  gentlemen  —  so  said  the.  man  from  Alsace  — 
were  amateur  fishermen,  and,  of  necessity,  accom- 
plished liars.  He  could  lie  himself,  upon  occasion, 
but  in  a  modest  way. 

"Look  you,  messieurs,"  he  added  earnestly,  "I, 
moi  qui  vous  parle,  have  fished  here  for  these  many 
years;  I  have  seen  these  fish  jump  fifteen,  yes, 
twenty  feet  high  into  the  air  ;  I  have  lost  lines  and 
lines  —  shark  lines  and  Jew-fish  lines  that  are  strong 
enough  to  hold  a  steer  ;  and  the  tuna  breaks  them 
like  this  —  Pouff!  Gentlemen  from  Florida,  mes- 
sieurs, have  come  to  Avalon  with  rods  and  reels 
that  have  cost  hundreds  of  dollars,  but  they  go 
away  without  the  tuna — leaving  their  tackle  on 
the  beach  !  '* 

For  the  week  following  we  fished  for  yellow-tail ; 
but  our  thoughts  were  with  the  tuna  —  of  him  we 
dreamed  by  night  and  talked  by  day.  We  met  the 
hero  who  had  captured  the  first  fish  in  '96,  and 
absorbed  the  words  of  wisdom  that  fell  from  his 


3IO     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

lips.  We  sat  at  the  feet  of  another  hero,  Mr.  W. 
Greer  Campbell,  who  had  fished  persistently  for 
more  than  a  month,  and,  eclipsing  all  records,  had 
brought  five  tunas  to  the  gaff.  Both  he  and  Col. 
Morehouse  had  fished  for  tarpon  in  Florida ;  both 
awarded  the  palm  to  the  tuna. 

"The  tuna,"  said  Mr.  Campbell,  "knows  all  the 
tricks  of  the  tarpon,  and  a  few  of  his  own.  Both 
belong  to  the  mackerel  family,  but  the  tuna  is  the 
high  muck-amuck  of  his  clan.  You  fish  for  tarpon 
sitting  in  a  boat,  with  the  bait  upon  the  bottom ; 
you  must  troll  for  tuna  behind  a  power-launch." 

The  days  passed,  and  the  speaker  added  three 
more  fish  to  his  bag ;  two  were  gaffed  in  one  day  ! 
Four  other  men  had  a  fish  apiece  to  their  credit  — 
no  more. 

"  How  do  you  do  it  ? "  we  asked. 

"  I  fight  them  from  the  start,"  he  replied,  "  and 
keep  on  fighting.  I  know  what  my  rod  and  reel 
can  stand,  and  1  have  the  best  boatman  in  southern 
California.     Much  of  the  credit  is  due  to  him." 

Finally,  business  summoned  the  hero  elsewhere, 
and  my  brother  and  I  secured  James  Gardner, 
Campbell's  boatman.  We  also  engaged  the  same 
launch  that  Campbell  had  used,  and  in  my  hands 
were  placed  the  rod  and  reel  that  had  done  such 
effective  work.  When  my  brother  met  me  in  the 
hall  of  the  hotel  at  3.30  the  next  morning  the  spirit 
of  prophecy  was  upon  him.  He  vowed  that  he  had 
slept  but  a  brief  two  hours,  and  had  dreamed  of  a 
gigantic  tuna  which  he  had  hooked  and  fought. 
But  the  issue  of  the  combat  had  been  left  in 
doubt. 


Sea  Fishing  311 

"  I  'm  not  sure,"  he  said,  and  his  face  was  pale 
beneath  the  flicker  of  a  single  lamp,  "  whether  I 
killed  the  fish,  or  whether  the  fish  killed  me  ! " 

We  sallied  forth  into  the  darkness  and  glanced 
anxiously  seaward.  A  faint  light  illumined  the 
bay,  and  across  the  eastern  horizon  quivered  a  bar 
of  silver. 

"  They  're  off  Abalone  Point,"  said  Jim  a  minute 
later.     "  Listen ! " 

Indeed,  splashes  were  distinctly  audible ;  the 
sounds  floated  heavily  across  the  grey  waters,  and 
our  hearts  throbbed  responsively  as  we  seated  our- 
selves in  Jim's  boat,  facing  the  stern  sheets,  and 
side  by  side.  The  baits  were  already  prepared: 
two  flying-fish,  some  fourteen  inches  long.  Each 
was  hooked  through  the  head ;  another  hook,  con- 
nected by  piano-wire  with  the  first,  was  sewn  on  to 
the  fish's  belly;  a  wire  trace,  a  yard  long,  and  a 
stout  brass  swivel  completed  the  lure,  which  we 
attached  by  means  of  a  clove-hitch  and  a  bowline 
to  our  lines.  Then  the  launch  slipped  her  moor- 
ings, we  dropped  the  baits  into  the  water,  and  paid 
out  thirty  yards  of  line.     The  game  had  begun ! 

As  we  gripped  our  rods,  Jim  whispered  encourage- 
ment and  advice. 

"We'll  get  a  strike  within  ten  minutes — sure! 
You'll  think  you've  snagged  a  submarine  island, 
and  then  the  reel  '11  tell  you  that  you  've  hitched  to 
a  shootin'  star !  Don't  snub  the  son  of  a  gun  too 
much,  but  check  him.  When  the  strike  comes,  you 
just  holler,  *  Let  go  ! '  I  guess  I  'm  on  to  my  job, 
and  I  '11  gamble  that  you  don't  lose  more  'n  three 
hundred  feet  of  line  before  this  boat  will  be  goin* 


312     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

with  the  fish.  We  're  playin'  in  big  luck  to  find 
tunies  right  here  the  very  first  time  ye  go  out." 

His  oars  were  lying  in  the  rowlocks  as  he  spoke, 
and  the  painter  was  in  his  strong  hands ;  the  launch 
was  nearing  Abalone  Point.  But  now,  alas  !  no 
musical  splash  proclaimed  the  presence  of  the  tuna. 
We  sped  here  and  there,  now  close  to  the  beds  of 
kelp,  now  heading  straight  to  sea ;  boxing  the  com- 
pass in  a  vain  quest. 

"  There  they  are  ! "  yelled  the  man  in  charge  of 
the  launch.     "  Dead  astern  ! " 

He  put  his  trim  little  vessel  about  as  we  strained 
our  eyes  and  ears  ;  we  could  see  nothing  and  hear 
as  much.  The  senses  of  those  who  go  down  to  the 
sea  in  ships  are  quickened  abnormally  ;  we  were 
land-lubbers,  and  realized  the  fact  with  shame. 

Zip !     Zip  !     Z-e-e-e-e-e-e ! 

My  brother's  reel  was  screaming  for  help.  In  a 
second  Jim  had  dropped  the  tow-rope  and  seized  the 
oars ;  in  two  seconds,  the  blades  were  gripping  the 
water ;  in  three,  we  were  slackening  speed  ;  in  five, 
we  were  going  astern  in  the  wake  of  the  tuna. 
The  supreme  moment  had  passed.  Still  the  line 
hissed  and  smoked  through  the  rings,  and  the  reels 
shrieked  more  hoarsely  and  fitfully  as  the  strong 
leather  brake  was  applied. 

"  Check  him  —  check  him,  sir  ! "  shouted  Jim. 

"  I  can't,"  groaned  my  brother.  "  I  might  as 
well  try  and  check  a  runaway  locomotive." 

I  had  reeled  in  my  own  line  and  was  watching 
the  point  of  my  brother's  rod.  In  fighting  these 
Titans,  both  hands  are  needed  for  the  reel.  The 
butt   of  the   rod   is   placed  under  one   knee,   and 


Sea  Fishing  3 1 3 

gripped  as  a  bronco-buster  grips  his  saddle ;  the  rod 
passes  over  the  other  knee,  and  the  point  of  it 
quivers  some  three  feet  above  the  boat's  starboard 
quarter.  To  keep  rod,  line  and  fish  in  this  posi- 
tion, and  in  no  other,  is  the  duty  of  a  first-class 
boatman. 

"  By  heaven,  he 's  ofi^ ! "  said  my  brother,  and  I 
groaned  in  despair  as  the  tip  of  the  rod  straightened. 

"  Not  he,"  cried  Jim,  cheerily.  "  Keel  in,  sir,  for 
your  life!" 

And  he  did  reel  in  —  thanking  the  gods  that  he 
owned  a  Vom  Hofe  patent  multiplier.  For  the 
tuna  was  still  on,  and  charging  like  a  bull  bison. 

"  Look  out  for  the  turn  1 "  said  Jim.  "  When  he 
sees  the  boat  he  '11  twist  like  a  swallow." 

The  warning  came  not  an  instant  too  soon ;  the 
tuna  fled  kelpward,  and  the  reel  wailed  a  miserere 
that  echoed  in  my  heartstrings.  If  the  fish  reached 
that  leafy  sanctuary,  he  was  safe. 

"  Turn  him  I "  said  Jim,  between  his  teeth. 

My  brother  clapped  both  thumbs  to  the  brake, 
but  the  pride  of  the  Pacific  rushed  on. 

"  Harder ! "  said  I  —  "  harder  ! " 

"  Lift  your  leg,  sir,"  suggested  the  guileful  James. 

My  brother  obeyed,  eying  doubtfully  the  slen- 
der tip.  The  rod  was  brand-new,  —  a  raw  stripling 
facing  the  heavy  guns  for  the  first  time.  Would  it 
stand  the  awful  strain  ?     By  Jove  —  yes  ! 

"  He 's  turning  ! "  said  Jim  joyfully.  "  The  tunies 
don't  like  kelp.  Now  he'll  put  to  sea,  where  we 
can  handle  him." 

And,  as  he  said,  the  tuna  put  to  sea,  steadily,  in 
a  straight  line;  no  ocean-going  yacht  could  have 


314     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

steered  a  truer  course  than  he.  And  the  light  boat 
followed.     I  lit  a  pipe  and  smiled  complacently. 

"  It 's  all  right  —  eh,  Jim  ? " 

"  All  right  ?  Not  much  !  It 's  never  all  right 
with  a  tuna  till  he's  in  the  boat." 

We  skimmed  over  the  water  faster  than  a  man 
could  row;  then  without  warning,  the  boat  slack- 
ened speed.  The  fish  was  sounding  and  sulking. 
My  brother  smiled  for  the  first  time,  and  held  up 
his  left  hand,  which  was  trembling. 

"Don't  you  rest,  sir,"  said  the  relentless  James. 
"  Lift  him  —  lift  him  !  When  he  takes  it  easy,  you 
worry  him." 

My  brother  sighed  and  obeyed  —  using  his  left 
leg  as  a  lever.  Five  minutes'  pumping  brought  the 
tuna  with  a  rush  to  the  surface;  Jim,  backing 
water,  approached  the  quarry,  and  some  forty  feet 
of  line  were  reeled  in.  Then  the  tuna  sounded  for 
the  second  time,  and  the  forty  feet  of  line  hissed 
back  through  the  rings. 

"  He 's  a  big  'un,"  observed  Jim.  "  It  may  take 
three  hours  of  this  work  to  kill  him  ! " 

My  brother's  dream  flitted  across  my  memory. 
A  glance  at  his  face  was  not  reassuring.  Fifteen 
minutes'  excitement  and  hard  manual  labour  had 
set  their  seal  upon  him.  The  tuna  could  stand 
severe  punishment;  of  my  brother's  capacity  for 
the  same  I  was  not  so  confident. 

"  This  ain't  a  game  of  croquet,"  said  Jim,  crown- 
ing my  unspoken  conclusions.     "  There  was  X . 

He  was  blooded,  too,  but  it  came  near  killin'  the 
old  man.  After  the  fish  was  gaffed  he  lay  in  the 
bottom  o'  the   boat,  limp   as  a  dish-rag  —  petered 


Sea  Fishing  315 

out,  by  Golly !  We  just  poured  brandy  into  him, 
and  be 's  left  the  tunies  alone  since  that  mornin'  — 
Thunder  !     What 's  he  doin'  now  ? " 

The  monster  had  turned,  and  was  towing  the 
boat  with  renewed  vigour  towards  Banning's  Bay 
—  an  inlet  bristling  with  rocks  and  glutted  with 
kelp.  For  forty  minutes  the  combat  was  Homeric, 
but  might  prevailed.  The  tuna  slowly  but  surely 
neared  the  shore.  Then  the  inevitable  came  to 
pass  :  the  line  parted  ! 

We  whistled  for  the  launch,  which  hovered  near 
us,  and  began  again ;  but  the  fish  were  no  longer 
feeding.  Not  a  strike  was  registered.  Yet  we  saw 
thousands  of  tuna.  An  enormous  school  of  them 
was  playing  off  Lone  Point,  a  cape  some  six  miles 
from  Avalon.  Through  the  multitude  and  around 
we  passed  and  repassed.  The  fish  were  leaping 
with  such  vigour  that  acres  of  water  were  churned 
into  foam ;  but  our  baits  were  unmolested. 

We  returned  to  the  hotel  in  time  for  a  nine- 
o'clock  breakfast.  The  adjective  "  keen  "  but  feebly 
describes  our  condition.  Both  launch  and  boat, 
with  their  respective  owners,  were  engaged  for  a 
fortnight;  yet  my  brother's  thumbs  were  so  sore 
and  swollen  that  the  effort  of  holding  knife  and 
fork  proved  a  feat  almost  beyond  his  strength. 
During  that  day  our  tongues  wagged  deliriously. 
The  tuna  fever  was  upon  us. 

A  week  glided  by,  bringing  to  us  bitter  dis- 
appointment. We  fished  patiently,  morning  and 
evening.  The  propeller  of  our  launch  had  a  busy 
time  of  it.  Each  inlet,  cove,  and  bay  between  Seal 
Kocks  and  the  Isthmus  was  explored,  but  the  tuna 


3i6    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

would  not  strike.  Despair  draped  us  as  with  a 
garment.  Early  rising  and  loss  of  sleep  provoked 
dyspepsia  and  irritability.  My  brother  and  the 
boatmen  stared  askance  at  me:  the  odious  word 
"Jonah"  festered  in  their  hearts  and  trembled 
upon  their  lips.  I  began  to  ask  myself  seriously 
if  indeed  I  had  cast  a  spell  upon  these  exasperat- 
ing fish.  The  very  newsboys  eyed  us  with  pity. 
The  outspoken  sympathy  of  our  waitress  became 
insupportable.  The  presence  of  an  importunate 
photographer  was  an  insult.  This  wretch  —  he 
was  on  the  ragged  edge  of  eternity  more  than 
once  —  inspired  in  us  a  murderous  hate:  he  dogged 
our  comings  and  goings ;  he  crushed  us  with  inane 
questions ;  he  turned  us  from  Jekylls  into  Hydes ! 

But  our  purpose  never  wavered.  We  had  come 
to  Catalina  Island  to  kill  a  tuna ;  a  tuna  —  one  at 
least  —  must  be  killed. 

"  Warburton  Pike,"  said  my  brother,  "  spent  two 
years  in  the  Arctic  Circle  after  musk-ox.  In  this 
lotus  land  we  can,  if  necessary,  pass  the  rest  of  our 
lives ! '' 

But  fate  demanded  no  such  sacrifice.  According 
to  Jim,  who  had  studied  the  habits  of  the  tuna,  a 
pernicious  ground-swell  and  the  absence  of  flying- 
fish  were  responsible  for  our  ill-fortune,  —  a  case 
of  cause  and  defect.  One  heavenly  morning  the 
ground-swell  was  not,  and  the  flying-fish  were  so 
plentiful  that  they  banged  their  heads  against  the 
boat. 

"This  time,"  said  James,  "we  shall  have  a 
strike." 

Ten   minutes   later   I   hooked   a   fine  fish !    He 


Sea  Fishing  317 

carried  out  nearly  two  hundred  yards  of  line,  and 
tried  all  the  tricks  known  to  the  mackerel  tribe: 
he  rushed  here  and  there  like  a  mad  coyote;  he 
sounded  and  sulked ;  he  towed  the  boat  more  than 
five  miles ;  he  circled  round  us  with  the  speed  of  a 
planet  careering  through  space ;  he  jerked  the  line 
till  it  was  taut  and  musical  as  catgut;  he  tested 
every  aching  sinew  in  my  body,  every  fibre  of  the 
stout  rod,  every  strand  of  that  cutty-hunk  line. 

But  he  came  at  last  to  the  gaff ! 

He  was  so  done  that  he  floated  belly-up  to  the 
steel,  and  never  quivered  when  it  pierced  his  silvery 
side.  He  fought  like  a  lion ;  he  died  like  a  lamb ! 
His  beauty,  moribund,  was  indescribable :  the  deep 
peacock  blue  of  his  back  melted  with  exquisite 
gradation  into  burnished  silver,  and  from  nose  to 
tail  he  glittered  with  an  iridescence  that  would  put 
mother-of-pearl  to  the  blush.  We  marked  the  dor- 
sal fin  snug  in  its  sheath,  the  pectorals  folded  to 
the  side  and  almost  invisible,  the  mighty  tail.  And 
in  the  moment  of  triumph  we  wondered  if  the  law 
of  the  survival  of  the  fittest  had  been  vindicated. 

Time  —  one  hour  and  five  minutes ;  weight  — 
125J  lbs. 

Upon  the  morning  following  we  had  three  strikes, 
and  lost  three  sets  of  hooks  and  many  yards  of 
line.  The  next  day  was  a  blank  ;  the  day  after,  we 
watched  a  four-and-a-half-hours'  fight  between  a 
tuna  and  Col.  Morehouse.  The  fish  proved  the 
victor,  but  mercifully  spared  the  life  of  our  friend. 
This  famous  struggle  was  chronicled  at  length  in 
all  the  local  papers.  Then  Sunday  brought  us 
rest  and  hope.     Upon  Monday  morning  at  3.55  we 


31 8     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

struck  into  two  fish  —  simtdtaneously  !  I  lost  mine 
in  five  seconds,  and  with  it  nearly  two  hundred 
yards  of  line.  My  brother  was  more  fortunate  — 
his  fish  put  to  sea ;  and  Jim  persuaded  me  to  leave 
the  boat  and  try  trolling  from  the  stern  of  the 
launch.  For  an  hour  and  a  half  I  trolled  without 
a  strike,  then  I  rejoined  my  brother.  His  fish  was 
still  on,  apparently  as  vigorous  as  ever.  Jim  re- 
cited the  old,  old  story  that  is  always  new  to  a 
sportsman.  The  tuna  had  towed  the  boat  some 
eight  miles ;  he  had  played  all  the  tricks ;  he  had 
shown  amazing  strength,  speed,  and  bottom;  he 
must,  in  Jim's  opinion,  prove  a  giant  of  the  giants 
— the  largest  that  had  ever  been  hooked ! 

For  three  hours  and  twenty-five  minutes  my 
brother  fought  that  fish !  At  last,  inch  by  inch, 
he  neared  the  steel  —  a  yellow-tail  gaff,  not  three 
feet  long.     Jim  leaned  far  over  the  gunwale. 

"  He 's  as  big  as  a  whale,"  he  yelled. 

Then  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  him,  as  he  surfaced 
within  a  few  feet  of  me.  He  was  seven  feet  long 
at  a  conservative  estimate,  and  thick  in  the 
shoulder  as  any  prize-fighter.  A-two-hundred-and- 
fifty-pounder  if  he  weighed  an  ounce ! 

Then,  as  the  gaff  flashed  in  the  air,  he  turned  and 
fled ;  the  reel  shrieked  in  mortal  agony.  Ye  gods 
and  fishes  !     Would  that  wild  rush  never  end  ? 

"  He  must  have  taken  two  hundred  feet ! "  I 
gasped. 

"  Two  hundred  yards  !  "  replied  my  brother  as  the 
monster  paused  ;   "  neither  more  nor  less." 

The  day  before  he  had  spliced  a  new  two-hun- 
dred-yard line  on  to  what  was  left  of  the  old  one. 


Sea  Fishing  319 

I  could  see  the  splice  vibrating  between  sky  and 
sea. 

"  He  '11  come  now,"  said  Jim.     "  Keel  in,  sir." 

The  fish  still  tugged  and  strained  —  but  feebly. 
My  brother  admitted  frankly  that  he  personally 
was  "  cooked."  Very  slowly  the  good  winch  did  its 
work.  Presently  I  saw  the  purple  back,  and  once 
more  Jim  seized  his  gaff.  Then  —  how  can  I  de- 
scribe the  catastrophe  ?  —  even  as  Jim  made  his 
pass,  as  a  who-whoop  began  to  gurgle  in  my  throat, 
as  my  brother's  set  features  relaxed,  as  doubt  be- 
came certainty,  —  the  fish  broke  water.  I  heard 
the  splash,  saw  the  tail  strike  the  line,  and  caught 
Jim's  agonised  groan,  — 

"He's  off!" 

There  is  an  ancient  story  concerning  a  man  who 
took  a  load  of  Dutch  cheeses  up  a  very  steep  hill. 
As  the  waggon  reached  the  summit,  the  tail-board 
broke  and  all  the  cheeses  rolled  from  the  top  of  the 
hill  to  the  bottom ;  but  the  teamster  said  never  a 
word.  A  bystander  sympathetically  invited  him  to 
swear.  "  No,"  replied  the  man  solemnly.  "  It 's 
no  use,  friend ;  cussin'  won't  help  me.  I  —  I  can't 
do  the  subject  justice  ! " 

My  brother  and  I  were  stricken  dumb. 

Tuna  may  be  caught  off  Catalina  Island,  which 
lies  within  three  hours*  travel  of  Los  Angeles,  from 
May  to  December ;  but  they  do  not  strike  unless 
the  flying-fish  are  in  the  neighbourhood.  June  is 
the  best  month.  It  is  wise  to  troll  as  close  as  pos- 
sible to  the  kelp,  skirting  the  bays  and  inlets.  The 
tuna,  like  the  seals,  drive  the  flying-fish  into  the 
bays  and  keep  them  there.     Moreover,  a  tuna  can 


320     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

be  handled  to  much  greater  advantage  in  shallow 
water,  provided  —  Uen  entendu  —  that  he  is  steered 
clear  of  the  kelp.  If  hooked  in  deep  water,  he  may 
sound  at  once.  If  he  does  this,  in  the  fulness  of 
his  strength,  no  cutty-hunk  line  can  stop  him. 

As  I  write,  a  letter  has  just  come  from  my  friend, 
Professor  Holder,  who  held  the  record  of  '98  with  a 
fish  that  scaled  183  lbs.  He  tells  me  that  he 
caught  the  first  tuna  of  '99,  upon  the  26th  of  May. 
This  fish  tipped  over  the  boat  and  was  brought  to 
gaff  in  forty  minutes.  Col.  Morehouse  of  Pasadena, 
who  caught  the  first  tuna  in  '96,  now  holds  the 
record  with  a  fish  of  251  lbs.,  caught  in  three  hours 
and  a  half.  A  Mr.  J.  H.  Woods,  of  Lima,  Ohio, 
deserves  honourable  mention,  having  (with  the  as- 
sistance of  his  boatman)  played  a  large  tuna  for 
fourteen  hours  and  fifteen  minutes ! 

The  tackle  to  be  used  should  be  of  the  best. 
Hardy  Bros,  of  Alnwick-on-Tweed,  and  Edwin  Vom 
Hofe  of  New  York  may  be  trusted  to  furnish  the 
stoutest  rods  and  reels.  In  Florida,  tarpon  fisher- 
men scorn  to  use  line  heavier  than  eighteen-ply ; 
the  tuna  has  not  yet  been  captured  with  a  cutty- 
hunk  finer  than  twenty-one ;  twenty-four  is  the 
favourite.  When  your  quarry  sulks  he  must  be 
lifted,  or  at  least  snubbed  ;  a  fine  line  under  such  a 
strain  snaps  like  pack-thread.  A  sixteen-ounce  rod 
(split  bamboo)  should  be  bound  from  the  butt  to 
within  three  feet  of  the  tip.  The  broken  rods,  so 
far,  have  generally  snapped  within  a  foot  of  the 
reel.  I  understand  that  Mr.  Hardy  has  built  a 
double-cane  tarpon-rod  with  steel  core.  With  such 
a  rod,  binding,  doubtless,  is  unnecessary. 


Sea  Fishing  321 

The  king-salmon  stands  next  to  the  tuna  in  my 
affections,  and  may  be  taken  with  rod  and  reel  in  a 
dozen  different  localities  on  the  Pacific  coast,  but 
seldom  south  of  Santa  Barbara.  Monterey  bay  is  a 
famous  hunting-ground.  At  Santa  Cruz  are  found 
boatmen,  tackle,  bait,  and  in  the  season,  dozens  of 
enthusiastic  fishermen.  My  brothers  and  I  have 
caught  numbers  of  these  fine  fish  off  Port  Harford. 
They  vary  in  size  from  eighteen  to  forty  pounds.  Sir 
Kichard  Musgrave,  I  believe,  holds  the  record  with  a 
monster  of  seventy  pounds,  taken  with  rod  and  reel 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Campbell  Kiver.  A  cast  of  this 
salmon  can  be  seen  in  the  museum  at  Victoria,  and 
no  less  august  a  paper  than  the  Spectator  chronicled 
its  capture. 

The  bait  is  a  fresh  sardine,  or,  failing  that,  a  large 
spoon.  The  rod  should  be  light,  stiff,  and  not  too 
short ;  the  reel  should  hold  not  less  than  five  hun- 
dred feet  of  fifteen-ply  cutty-hunk  line.  The 
authorities  disagree  as  to  the  use  of  a  sinker,  but  no 
rule  can  be  laid  down.  I  use  a  light  sinker,  and 
instruct  my  boatman  to  pull  slowly  in  and  around 
the  schools  of  sardines,  herrings,  and  anchovies, 
upon  which  the  salmon  feed.  Failing  in  these 
tactics,  I  have  substituted  a  heavier  sinker,  and 
trolled  lelow  the  schools  of  bait ;  the  salmon  have 
then  bitten  freely.  Of  their  comings  and  goings 
knoweth  no  man  with  certainty.  December,  Jan- 
uary, February,  and  March  are  the  best  months, 
but,  like  wapiti,  they  shift  their  quarters  with  exas- 
perating swiftness.  Instruct  your  boatman  to  wire 
you  the  news  of  their  advent,  and  lose  not  a  moment 
in  taking  the  next  train  to  the  fishing-ground, 

21 


322     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

I  think  sea  salmon-fishing  is  especially  to  be  com- 
mended because  the  fish  visits  this  State  during  the 
dullest  season  of  the  year.  (I  speak,  of  course,  from 
a  sportsman's  point  of  view.)  And  they  bite  freely 
during  the  day.  Early  rising  is  quite  unnecessary. 
Moreover,  the  hills  and  vales  of  California  are  wear- 
ing spring's  mantle ;  even  in  December  the  bleak, 
brown  slopes  of  the  coast  range  begin  to  glow  with 
tender  tints,  and  the  turbulent  trade-winds  are  rag- 
ing elsewhere.  Upon  land  and  sea  lies  the  promise 
of  peace  and  plenty,  and  the  charm  of  this  Frilh- 
lingslied  cannot  be  set  down  in  printer's  ink. 

The  salmon  makes  a  game  fight,  but  he  must  miss 
the  ice-cold  waters  of  his  northern  home.  His  first 
rush  is  not  always  the  worst.  Sometimes  he  comes 
like  a  lamb  to  the  steel,  but  at  sight  of  it  sounds 
with  the  speed  of  a  stone  dropped  into  a  well.  He 
is  a  past-master  in  the  art  of  hammering  a  lin&  In 
the  clear  waters  of  the  bay  where  I  fish  you  may 
see  him,  deep  down,  shaking  his  thoroughbred  head 
and  striking  the  line  with  his  tail.  As  he  nears  the 
surface  you  mark  the  superb  proportions  that  are 
his  insignia  of  royalty.  Light  coruscates  from  his 
silvery  scales  as  from  a  Golconda  diamond.  He 
looks  what  he  is  —  a  king. 

I  leave  His  Majesty  with  reluctance,  and  turn  to 
my  friend  the  yellow-tail,  sometimes  called  the 
white  salmon.  To  the  salmon,  however,  he  is  not 
even  of  kin.  He  belongs,  strangely  enough,  to  the 
pompanos  (these  delicious  fish  are  esteemed  by 
epicures  an  extraordinary  delicacy),  to  the  caran- 
gidce,  and  his  particular  style  and  title  is  Seriola 
dorsalis.     Until  quite  recently  this  handsome  fellow 


Sea  Fishing  323 

was  not  found  north  of  Point  Conception,  but  of 
late  large  catches  have  been  made  in  Monterey  Bay. 
I  have  caught  them  off  Pismo  wharf  in  San  Luis 
Obispo  County,  but  Catalina  Island  is  their  home. 
Here  they  may  be  taken  with  rod  and  reel  for  nine 
months  in  the  year  —  from  April  to  December,  and 
taken  by  the  score ! 

The  yellow-tail  is  stronger  and  speedier  than  the 
salmon,  but  he  has  a  plebeian  love  of  kelp,  and  is 
tricky  as  any  street  Arab.  No  spoon  with  seduc- 
tive shimmer  will  tempt  the  Beau  Brummel  of 
Catalina.  He  turns  aside  from  smelt  and  sardine 
if  they  swim  ever  so  slightly  askew,  and  he  seldom 
swallows  tainted  bait  —  unless  cast  to  the  void  as 
chum,  when  he  proves  himself  less  particular  than 
a  turkey  buzzard.  If  he  disapproves  the  lure  he  is 
apt  to  rub  himself  contemptuously  against  it,  with 
results  that  (to  him)  must  prove  amazing.  Many 
foul-hooked  fish  are  caught  thus. 

You  troll  for  this  dandy,  sitting  comfortably  in  a 
chair  facing  the  stern  sheets,  and  the  boatman  who 
knows  his  business  will  use  plenty  of  chum  and  row 
around,  not  through,  the  schools  of  fish.  At  Cata- 
lina, James  Gardner,  Arnold  Hotson,  William  Sar- 
now,  Harry  Elms,  and  Mexican  Joe,  have  studied 
carefully  the  habits  of  the  yellow-tail ;  a  blank  day 
with  any  of  these  men  in  the  boat  is  almost  impos- 
sible. Out  of  one  school  it  is  not  uncommon  to  take 
half  a  dozen  fish. 

The  wise  man  hugs  the  kelp  forest,  but  keeps 
an  eye  to  seaward,  for  the  presence  of  a  school  of 
yellow-tail  is  not  to  be  mistaken.  As  soon  as  the 
fish  strikes,  the  boatman  must  pull  from  the  shore, 


324     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

even  at  the  risk  of  breaking  the  line.  For  this 
reason  slightly  stouter  tackle  than  that  used  for 
salmon  is  necessary.  The  first  rush  is  always 
magnificent,  and  the  reel  sings  shrilly,  high  up 
in  alt.  I  myself  use  a  twelve-foot  rod,  light  and 
flexible,  that  describes  under  pressure  the  most 
enchanting  parabola.  The  rods  sold  as  yellow-tail 
rods  in  San  Francisco  and  Los  Angeles  would  serve 
excellently  well  as  gaff-handles,  but  they  are  poles, 
nothing  more  nor  less,  and  most  singularly  ill- 
adapted  to  the  uses  to  which  they  are  put.  They 
are  so  short  and  stiff  that  a  fish  smartly  turning 
will  snap  a  twenty-four  ply  line  as  if  it  were 
thread.  I  believe  my  rod  was  the  longest  ever 
seen  upon  Avalon  beach,  but  many  good  sportsmen 
expressed  approval  of  it.  My  brother  used  a  light 
lance-wood  rod,  some  nine  feet  long,  which  was  in- 
expensive and  effective.  Yellow-tail  tackle  —  rods, 
reels,  lines,  and  hooks  —  can  be  bought  in  Avalon. 
No  first-class  articles,  however,  are  kept  in  stock. 

These  fish  vary  greatly  in  weight,  running  from 
fifteen  to  sixty  and  even  seventy  pounds.  We  used 
eighteefi-ply  line,  but  fifteen,  I  am  convinced,  is  the 
sportsman's  size,  and  of  this,  five  hundred  feet  are 
amply  sufficient.  After  the  first  mad  rush  the  fish 
generally  heads  toward  the  boat;  you  think  he  is 
off  the  hook,  but  are  soon  most  agreeably  undeceived. 
As  a  rule,  he  resorts  immediately  to  sounding  and 
sulking.  Under  firm  pressure  he  will  surface,  and 
sound  again,  repeating  these  tactics  till  he  has  ex- 
hausted both  himself  and  you.  So  savagely  does  he 
sound  that  most  fishermen  wear  a  specially  con- 
structed belt,  an   abdominal  protector   that   holds 


Sea  Fishing  325 

securely  the  butt  of  the  rod.  I  prefer,  personally, 
to  fish  for  yellow-tail  as  one  must,  willy-nilly,  fish 
for  tuna,  —  with  the  butt  beneath  my  right  knee, 
and  firmly  grasped  there,  and  the  point  of  the  rod 
above  the  starboard  quarter  of  the  boat.  The  left 
leg,  over  which  the  rod  passes,  can  be  used  to  advan- 
tage as  a  lever,  and  both  hands  can  thus  be  devoted 
to  the  reel. 

At  times  the  yellow-tail  may  be  taken  at  the 
Isthmus  by  casting  from  the  shore.  The  water  is 
shallow  and  free  from  kelp,  and  the  fun  fast  and 
furious.  Unfortunately,  the  Isthmus  is  fifteen  miles 
from  Avalon,  and  the  prospects  of  sport  are  precari- 
ous. When  the  fishermen  draw  their  seines  the 
yellow-tail  follow  the  small  fry  into  the  shallow 
water,  driving  them  ashore,  thus  supplying  the 
angler  with  an  abundance  of  fresh  bait.  Unless 
you  actually  see  your  quarry,  casting  at  the 
Isthmus  is  labour  wasted. 

In  trolling  for  yellow-tail  the  bait  should  swim, 
not  spin,  at  least  thirty  yards  behind  the  boat. 
Authorities  disagree  upon  the  nice  question  of  giv- 
ing the  fish  the  butt  when  he  strikes.  Tweedledum 
says  "Sock  it  to  him!"  Tweedledee  asserts  that 
the  handsome  knave  will  hook  himself  more  surely 
if  not  interfered  with.  Personally,  I  side  with 
Tweedledum.  Early  in  the  season,  certaiuly  to 
the  end  of  July,  the  best  grounds  are  to  be  found 
between  Jew-fish  Point  and  Church  Eocks.  After 
the  first  of  August  the  largest  catches  are  made 
between  Lone  Point  and  the  Isthmus.  The  ama- 
teur will  be  guided  in  such  matters  by  the  pro- 
fessional experience  of  his  boatman. 


326     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

The  sea-bass  affords  capital  sport,  but  he  is  not 
to  be  taken  at  Catalina  after  the  middle  of  July. 
Later  he  may  be  found  farther  north;  as  I  write 
(August  11th)  the  waters  of  Port  Harford  Bay  are 
swarming  with  these  fish.  They  are  caught  in  nets 
at  almost  all  seasons  of  the  year,  but  in  different 
localities.  At  Catalina  they  begin  to  bite  freely 
about  the  middle  of  April.  You  must  troll  for 
them  with  a  big  smelt  as  a  lure,  and  a  fifty-pounder 
will  give  you  a  hard  fight.  Yellow-tail  tackle 
should  be  used,  and  a  short  rod,  I  emphasise  this, 
because  the  sea-bass  is  a  sounder  and  sulker,  and 
must  be  pumped  to  the  surface  again  and  again. 
He  combines  in  his  handsome  person  the  beauty 
of  salmon  and  yellow-tail,  possessing  the  silvery 
scales  of  the  former  and  the  golden  iridescence  of  the 
latter.  A  certain  coarseness  mars  his  appearance ; 
he  lacks  the  quality  of  salmon,  and  sometimes  he 
plays  the  poltroon  and  comes  sluggishly  to  the  gaff. 

The  albicore  may  be  taken  with  rod  and  reel  at 
Catalina  throughout  the  year,  but  you  cannot  make 
certain  of  his  capture  at  any  time.  He  likes  plenty 
of  chum,  and  the  best  lure  is  a  mackerel  or  a  flying- 
fish.  He  is  a  tuna  in  parvo,  and  knows  all  the 
tricks  of  his  tribe.  In  weight  he  ranges  from  forty 
to  seventy  pounds ;  he  loves  blue  water  and  plenty 
of  company ;  he  is  frolicsome  as  a  kitten,  strong  as 
a  tiger-cat,  and  a  voracious  glutton. 

His  first  cousin,  the  bonito,  worthily  sustains  th6 
family  traditions  as  a  fighter  and  a  dandy.  He  is 
no  sulker,  and  taken  with  an  eight-ounce  rod  and 
trout-tackle,  affords  glorious  sport.  His  rushes  to 
and  fro  are  positively  bewildering  to  the  most  ex- 


Sea  Fishing  327 

perienced  angler,  and  you  are  never  certain  of  him 
till  he  strikes  his  own  death  knell  upon  the  bottom 
of  the  boat.  He  may  be  hooked  with  jig,  spoon, 
dead  or  live  bait,  and  is  to  be  found  in  the  spring, 
summer,  and  autumn,  between  Point  Conception 
and  San  Diego.  My  brothers  and  I  have  caught 
them  at  Port  Harford  and  Pismo  in  August,  Sep- 
tember, October,  and  November. 

These  fish,  like  all  mackerel,  run  in  schools,  and 
may  be  corralled,  so  to  speak,  by  the  abundant  use  of 
chum.  I  commend  casting  for  them  from  the  stern 
of  a  boat,  and  a  small  mackerel  spinner  is  a  deadly 
lure ;  if  this  fails,  a  sardine  or  anchovy  may  succeed. 

I  must  emphasise,  even  ad  nauseam,  the  necessity 
of  employing  light  tackle  when  fishing  for  bonito. 
At  Catalina,  yellow-tail  rods  and  lines  are  generally 
used,  even  by  sportsmen.  The  fish  are  mercilessly 
reeled  in,  knocked  on  the  head,  and  ultimately 
thrown  away  as  refuse.  Stout  cutty-hunk  line  is 
about  as  well  adapted  to  play  an  eight-pound  fish, 
as  an  elephant  gun  would  be  to  kill  a  quail  on 
the  wing.  Bonito,  moreover,  should  be  salted  and 
smoked;  their  bellies,  delicately  broiled,  make  a 
breakfast-dish  fit  to  set  before  Lucullus. 

To  the  halibut  I  am  under  obligations  for  many 
hours  of  excellent  entertainment.  He  is  not  an 
aristocrat  either  in  appearance  or  by  birth,  but  he 
is  a  fighter,  strong  and  speedy,  and  a  heavy-weight 
withal.  At  Port  Harford,  during  the  late  summer 
and  fall,  he  may  be  taken  with  spoon,  or  dead  bait. 
A  heavy  sinker  must  be  used,  as  this  fellow  feeds 
on  or  near  the  bottom,  and  your  boatman  must  be 
instructed  to  row  slowly  and  hug  the  shore.     The 


328     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

fish  strikes  vigorously,  stampedes  with  terror  when 
he  feels  the  barb,  but  soon  tires.  My  heaviest  hali- 
but scaled  twenty-eight  pounds ;  but  fish  weighing 
several  hundred  pounds  are  often  taken  with  hand 
lines !  They  are  found  anywhere  and  everywhere, 
but  seldom  linger  long  in  the  same  place.  A  friend 
of  mine,  who  has  studied  their  habits,  says  they 
bite  most  freely  when  the  water  is  clear,  and  as  the 
tide  begins  to  flow.     This  has  been  our  experience. 

The  barracuda  comes  last  but  one,  and,  like  the 
bonito,  merits  better  treatment  than  it  receives  at 
the  hands  of  sportsmen.  At  Catalina,  during  the 
months  of  May,  June,  and  July,  these  fish  are 
slaughtered  by  the  thousands.  The  power-launches, 
at  times,  are  nothing  else  but  shambles  reeking  with 
blood  and  slime ;  the.  stands  of  the  boatmen  hang 
heavy  with  them  every  evening ;  and  the  importu- 
nate photographer  drives  a  roaring  trade. 

The  barracuda  seldom  weighs  more  than  ten 
pounds,  and  affords  fair  sport  if  taken  with  light 
tackle.  Any  lure  will  serve,  if  he  be  biting,  but  he 
is  an  expert  at  disgorging.  You  will  know  him 
long  before  you  see  his  lithe,  sinuous  body,  by  reason 
of  his  arrowy  rushes  and  habit  of  shaking  the  hook. 
He  seldom  sounds,  and  never  sulks,  but  easily  tires. 
I  have  seen  millions  of  these  fish  lying  together, 
packed  like  sardines,  side  by  side,  motionless  and 
deep  down.  At  these  times  they  never  feed.  Again 
I  have  seen  them  playing  upon  the  surface  of  the 
water,  lashing  the  summer  seas  into  foam,  too  busily 
employed  to  make  way  for  launch  or  row-boats,  and 
falling,  of  course,  an  easy  prey  to  both. 

The  black  bass,  Stereolepis  gigas,  is,  I  believe,  not 


Sea  Fishing  329 

often  caught  north  of  Point  Conception.  He  is  a 
huge  beast,  as  truly  peasant  as  the  tuna  is  prince,  — 
coarse,  ugly,  strong,  and  obstinate.  He  feeds  in  or 
near  the  kelp,  and  is  a  lover  of  carrion,  particularly 
the  red  flesh  of  tuna  or  albicore.  But  the  lonne 
louche  that  he  prefers  to  aught  else  is  a  live  white 
fish  or  rock  bass,  carefully  hooked  below  the  dorsal 
fin.  Mr.  S.  M.  Beard,  so  I  understand,  was  the  first 
man  to  capture  this  monster  with  rod  and  reel.  In 
a  number  of  Outing,  —  which  I  regret  to  say  I  have 
been  unable  to  procure,  —  Mr.  Beard  has  described 
the  fight,  which  lasted  many  hours.  The  fish 
weighed  two  hundred  pounds. 

Since  then  Mr.  Eider  has  held  the  record  of  the 
largest  fish  taken  with  rod  and  reel  (line  not  thicker 
than  twenty-four  ply),  a  record  beaten  last  summer 
('99)  by  Mr.  T.  S.  Manning,  who  brought  to  gaff  a 
bass  of  330  lbs.  Mr.  Eider's  fish  weighed  just  three 
pounds  less. 

The  two  bass  shown  in  the  accompanying  illustra- 
tion were  caught  by  me  on  a  hand  line.  I  fished 
for  two  days  —  eight  hours  a  day  —  anchored  off 
Silver  Canon,  Catalina  Island,  in  a  ground-swell  that 
exacted  tribute  from  a  boatman  who  had  served  a 
sixteen  years*  apprenticeship  to  Neptune  ;  I  held  in 
hand  my  rod,  with  tuna  reel  and  line  attached,  but 
had  not  a  single  strike.  However,  even  with  hand 
lines,  black  bass-fishing  is  exciting  and  not  without 
a  leaven  of  danger.  Woe  to  the  wight  who  fights 
the  Jew-fish  without  gloves !  I  have  seen  scars 
that  attest  the  Sheeny's  strength  and  the  angler's 
carelessness ;  a  finger  might  easily  be  lost  in  such 
an  encounter. 


330     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

This  fellow  approaches  the  bait  with  gutter-bred 
caution  and  suspicion,  and  bears  it  hence  ready  to 
drop  it  at  an  instant's  notice.  The  fisherman  feels 
but  a  gentle  nibble,  and  allows  the  line  to  slip 
through  his  fingers.  Wlien  six  feet  of  it  are  gone, 
he  stands  up,  and  strikes  !  The  massive  hook  must 
be  driven  home  into  a  jaw  that  is  hard  and  tough 
as  sole  leather.  Then  the  monster  flies  kelpward, 
and  must  be  turned  if  possible.  He  shows  fair 
speed,  but  is  a  sluggard  compared  to  the  tuna. 
None  the  less  he  tugs  and  strains  with  right  good 
will,  putting  your  biceps  and  triceps  to  the  proof. 
Give  him  slack  and  he  escapes  ;  no  fish  that  swims 
can  rid  himself  of  a  hook  with  greater  ease  than 
he.  Finally,  the  steady  strain  tells  upon  his  craven 
spirit,  and  he  floats  passively  to  his  death.  As  he 
lies  alongside  a  stringer  is  passed  through  his  gills 
and  out  of  his  mouth  and  the  ends  made  fast  to 
the  ring  in  the  stern  sheets  of  the  boat.  Then  the 
boatman  dispatches  him  with  a  single  thrust  of  a 
keen  knife.  Dying,  he  manifests  those  vast  mus- 
cular forces  that  properly  exercised  would  have 
given  him  life  and  freedom.  With  his  broad  tail 
he  churns  the  water  into  foam ;  with  every  roll  of 
his  gigantic  body  he  threatens  to  overturn  the 
boat.     It  is  magnificent,  but  it  is  not  sport ! 

My  largest  black  bass  weighed  three  hundred  and 
twenty  pounds. 

The  charm  of  sea-fishing  is  cumulative.  Apart 
from  the  infinite  variety  of  the  sport  itself,  and 
above  it,  is  the  mysterious  spell  of  ocean,  of  which 
so  many  men,  from    Ulysses  to    Louis  Stevenson, 


Sea  Fishing  331 

have  testified.  And  here,  in  southern  California, 
where  winds  blow  but  blithely  and  storms  are  not, 
who  can  resist  the  sweet  voice  of  the  Pacific  ?  To 
those  who  live  upon  the  seaboard  she  calls  night 
and  day,  in  simple  language  that  needs  no  inter- 
preter. To  the  sportsman  she  promises  much  goodly 
entertainment  and  exercise  ;  to  women  and  children 
she  warbles  joyously  of  health  and  happiness ;  to 
the  weary  bread-winner  she  whispers  —  Best. 
Yet  how  few  of  us  give  ear ! 


XVIII 
FRESH  WATER  FISHING 


XVIII 
FKESH  WATER  FISHING 

WHEN  many  years  ago  an  English  officer  was 
sent  to  Oregon  —  the  Great  Emerald  Land 

—  to  report  to  the  English  Government  upon  its 
value  and  resources,  he  is  said  to  have  written  these 

words :    "  Country   not   worth    a  d n.     Salmon 

won't  take  the  fly  !  " 

And  this  curse  —  for  so  an  angler  will  regard  it 

—  still  clings  to  the  lovely  streams  and  rivers  of 
the  north.  The  salmon  refuse  to  rise  to  the  fly. 
However,  they  snap  at  the  glittering  spoon  and 
other  baits,  and  once  hooked,  a  salmon  in  condition 
will  prove  as  game  as  the  fish  of  Canada,  Scotland, 
or  Norway. 

On  the  Pacific  Slope  there  would  seem  to  be  five 
species  of  salmon  :  the  king-salmon  (the  tyhee  or 
quinnat),  the  dog-salmon,  the  blueback,  the  hump- 
back, and  the  silver-salmon.  Dr.  Jordan,  President 
of  the  Leland  Stanford  Junior  University,  and  an  in- 
ternational authority  upon  ichthyology,  says :  "  Of 
these  species  the  blueback  predominates  in  the  Eraser 
River  and  in  the  Yukon  River,  the  silver-salmon  and 
the  humpback  in  Puget  Sound,  the  king-salmon  (or 
quinnat)  in  the  Columbia  and  the  Sacramento,  and 
the  silver-salmon  in  most  of  the  streams  along  the 
coast.  Only  the  quinnat  has  been  noticed  south 
of  San  Francisco.     Of  these  species  the  king-salmon 


336     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

and  blueback  habitually  '  run '  in  the  spring,  the 
others  in  the  fall." 

In  the  rivers  near  Mount  Shasta,  such  as  the 
Pitt  Kiver  and  the  Macldud,  the  strength  of  the 
current  and  the  numerous  obstacles  in  the  streams 
and  along  the  banks  add  immensely  to  the  sport. 
More  than  one  angler  has  had  to  swim  to  save  his 
fish,  and  if  you  happen  to  hook  a  ten-pounder  in 
the  rapids,  you  will  be  ready  to  swear  that  he  is 
three  times  his  actual  weight.  Accordingly,  the 
sportsman  who  is  unable  to  leave  California  would 
do  well  to  make  Sissons  his  headquarters.  Sissons 
can  be  easily  reached  by  train  from  San  Francisco 
or  Portland ;  but  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  add  that 
if  you  want  fishing  extraordinary  you  must  be  pre- 
pared to  camp  out.  There  are  very  few  places  on 
the  Pacific  Slope  where  a  man  can  enjoy  first-class 
sport  and  sleep  every  night  in  a  good  hotel  near  the 
railroad. 

Most  men  have  their  favourite  spoon,  but  I  pre- 
fer what  is  known  (I  think)  as  an  Eel  Kiver  spoon : 
of  the  size  used  for  large  steelhead.  Sometimes  the 
salmon  only  take  a  lure  that  looks  as  large  as  a 
sardine  tin,  but  my  brothers  and  I  have  had  better 
fortune  with  the  small  article.  It  is  impossible  to 
lay  down  any  rule.  For  the  rest,  ordinary  salmon 
tackle  is  required.  A  Greenheart  rod  —  about 
fourteen  feet  long  (with  several  tips)  —  is  more 
likely  to  stand  rough  usage  than  a  split  bamboo, 
and  is  easily  spliced  if  broken.  The  simpler  the 
reel,  the  better.  Some  American  anglers  use  auto- 
matic reels,  but  for  salmon  spinning  and  trolling, 
the  stout  winch  which   was  good  enough  for  our 


Fresh  Water  Fishing  337 

grandfathers  will  prove  in  the  end  the  most  satis- 
factory. I  should  like  to  be  able  to  say  a  kind 
word  for  American  tackle,  for  the  very  best  articles 
are  superb,  but  there  is  an  enormous  quantity  of 
trash  on  the  market,  and  the  middleman  makes  his 
profit  out  of  the  trash.  Moreover  the  best  is  very 
expensive.  I  speak  from  bitter  experience,  when  I 
urge  the  traveller  to  buy  nothing  but  the  best,  and 
to  buy  that,  if  he  can,  in  England,  where  he  will 
pay  just  half  what  the  crack  Eastern  makers  will 
demand  for  their  wares.  Tackle,  unfortunately, 
cannot  be  tested  in  a  shop.  I  have  bought  flies 
and  lines  and  traces  which  on  the  closest  inspection 
seemed  as  good  as  they  could  be,  and  have  had  to 
throw  them  all  away  after  a  week's  fishing !  Most 
of  the  so-called  waterproof  lines  "  knuckle  "  after  a 
few  days'  work ! 

If  time  is  no  object  to  the  angler,  I  should  advise 
him  to  travel  straight  to  Victoria  in  Vancouver's 
Island,  and  on  the  rivers  north  of  this  pleasant 
town  he  will  find,  between  the  first  of  April  and 
the  end  of  October,  sport  so  good  that  unless  he 
is  very  keen  he  runs  the  risk  of  becoming  glutted 
with  it.  He  will  learn  on  arrival  that  trout-fishing, 
not  salmon-spinning,  is  the  one  topic  of  anglers,  for 
trout  take  the  fly,  and  the  fishermen  of  Victoria 
hold  the  spoon  in  contempt. 

No  matter  what  river  you  choose,  the  fishing 
(nine  times  out  of  ten)  must  be  done  from  a  canoe. 
With  a  little  practice  two  men  can  fish  comfortably 
out  of  the  same  boat.  You  drop  down  stream  till 
you  come  to  a  likely  place,  and  then  throw  out  a 
small  anchor.     The  streams  are  wide,  and  the  water 


338     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

very  clear ;  so  it  is  important  to  get  out  as  much  line 
as  possible,  casting  your  fly  close  under  the  bank. 
The  rainbow  trout  average  about  a  pound  apiece, 
but  five  and  six  pounders  are  not  infrequently 
caught.  My  brother  and  I  would  change  ends 
every  half-hour,  for  the  man  in  the  bow  of  the 
canoe  fishes  the  left  side  and  the  man  in  the  stern 
the  right  side  of  the  river,  and  a  change  eases  the 
muscles.  As  soon  as  a  big  fish  is  hooked,  it  will  be 
prudent  for  the  other  fellow  to  reel  in  and  lend  a 
hand  with  the  landing-net.  A  hint  as  to  the  use 
of  the  net.  Many  fine  fish  are  lost  at  the  supreme 
moment  because  the  net  is  improperly  used.  The 
fish  floating  exhausted  to  the  side  of  the  boat  is  ladled 
out  of  the  water  as  if  he  were  a  spoonful  of  por- 
ridge. If  he  has  a  kick  left  in  him,  he  will  resent 
this  treatment,  with  a  result  that  may  be  left  to 
the  imagination  of  the  reader.  And  the  more 
troubled  the  water,  the  more  likely  he  is  to  break 
the  line  when  he  sees  the  fatal  net.  He  should 
be  tenderly  coaxed  half-way  between  the  stem  and 
stern  of  the  canoe,  and  the  net  noiselessly  held 
behind  him.  Then  relax  the  strain,  and  in  a  jiffy 
he  is  in  the  toils.  This  rule  is  laid  down,  I  sup- 
pose, in  all  the  text-books,  but  I  have  seen  it  more 
honoured  in  the  breach  than  the  observance. 

The  fly  of  flies  for  these  turbulent  northern  rivers 
is  the  Jock  Scott,  of  the  size  used  in  Scotland  for 
small  grilse.  Buy  plenty  of  these,  tied  by  the  best 
man  you  know,  and  take  others  of  the  same  size  and 
colour,  like  the  Silver  Doctor,  the  Silver  Grey,  the 
Silver  Wilkinson,  the  Blue  Boyne,  and  that  deadly 
insect,  the  Alexandra.     These,  I  am  aware,  are  all 


Fresh  Water  Fishing  339 

salmon  flies,  bwt  you  can  buy  them  of  the  smallest 
size,  and  in  bright  weather,  on  clear  water,  they 
ought  to  prove  deadly.  If  a  fish  rises  short,  put 
on  a  smaller  fly,  and  remember  the  Scotch  maxim, 
"A  bright  fly  on  a  bright  day,  and  a  dark  fly  on 
a  dark  day."  Toward  dusk,  the  Coachman,  the 
Royal  Coachman,  the  Coch-a-bondhu,  and  the  White- 
wing  may  be  tried.  The  March  Brown,  the  Red 
Spinner,  and  all  the  hackles  are  excellent.  You 
will  catch  most  of  your  trout  early  in  the  morning 
and  after  six  in  the  evening,  but  there  is  generally 
a  splendid  rise  in  the  middle  of  the  day  which 
seldom  lasts  more  than  three  quarters  of  an  hour. 

Not  the  least  part  of  the  fun  is  poling  up  the 
rivers,  and  the  passing  of  swift  rapids  exacts  a 
nice  adjustment  of  muscle  and  brain.  The  Siwash 
Indians  are  adepts  at  this  work,  and  you  will  see 
one  seemingly  feeble  old  man  poling  a  heavy 
bateau  against  a  stream  that  you  would  pronounce 
irresistible.  Those  who  can  punt  always  fancy 
themselves  at  this  game,  till  they  have  found  out 
by  trial  the  difference  between  rivers  like  the 
Thames  and,  let  us  say,  the  Cowichan.  The  man 
who  poles  uses  his  knee  against  the  gunwale  of 
the  boat,  and  obtains  thereby  immense  power.  If, 
however,  his  pole  should  slip,  the  man's  centre  of 
gravity  being  outside  the  boat,  it  is  almost  impos- 
sible to  avoid  a  bath.  The  secret  of  poling,  like  the 
secret  of  wrestling,  is  using  the  strength  of  what  is 
opposing  you.  If  the  current  strikes  the  canoe  at 
a  certain  angle,  a  slight  effort  on  the  part  of  the 
poler  will  send  the  boat  up  stream.  Suffer  the 
stem  to  swing  ever  so  slightly,  and  the  canoe  will 


340     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

be  whirled  round  and  round  like  a  leaf  in  a  mill 
race. 

Sometimes  you  can  wade,  particularly  in  summer 
when  the  water  is  low.  For  this  work  you  want 
wading-boots,  not  too  light,  and  a  fisliing  hag,  not 
a  basket,  with  two  watertight  compartments,  one 
for  the  fish  and  the  other  for  your  fly-book.  A 
good  fisherman  nearly  always  presents  a  workman- 
like appearance,  and  details  seemingly  unimportant 
must  not  be  neglected.  A  badly  fitting  coat,  for 
instance,  will  cause  intense  annoyance  and  discom- 
fort. You  should  buy  a  Norfolk  jacket  with  what 
is  called  an  expanding  pleat,  a  coat  which  gives  the 
arms  full  play.  The  inside  pockets  of  this  must  be 
large  and  lined  with  waterproof  which  you  can 
take  out,  wash,  and  dry. 

Of  the  trout  which  swim  in  Pacific  Slope  rivers 
and  streams,  the  largest  is  the  steelhead  (Salmo 
gairdneri),  often  miscalled  the  salmon  trout,  be- 
cause the  flesh  is  pink.  These  fish  may  be  caught 
in  most  streams  in  the  spring,  and  afford  excellent 
sport,  running  in  weight  from  four  to  fourteen 
pounds.  They  take  the  spoon  more  readily  than 
the  fly,  but  we  have  caught  very  many  with  the 
latter.  My  brother  was  fly-fishing  one  afternoon 
and  hooking  fish  after  fish,  to  the  intense  astonish- 
ment of  a  youth  on  the  opposite  bank,  who  was 
using  the  worm  with  no  success.  He  (the  youth) 
was  not  able  to  see  the  fly,  but  he  concluded  from 
my  brother's  actions  that  whipping  the  water  was 
the  only  way  to  catch  fish;  accordingly  he  began 
thrashing  the  surface  of  the  stream  with  worm, 
float  and  sinker,  to  my  brother's  great  delight.     He 


Fresh  Water  Fishing  341 

worked  away  for  nearly  an  hour  and  finally  crossed 
the  river  and  begged  my  brother  to  tell  him  why 
the  fish  were  rising  in  one  part  of  the  stream  and 
not  in  another. 

Next  to  the  steelhead  in  size  comes  the  cutthroat 
trout,  to  be  known  at  once  by  the  deep  orange- 
coloured  blotches  under  the  throat.  After  the  cut- 
throat follows  the  glorious  rainbow  trout,  which  — 
according  to  Dr.  Jordan  —  may  be  distinguished 
from  the  young  steelhead  by  the  smaller  scales  of 
the  latter,  —  there  being  in  the  rainbow  trout  about 
130  in  the  lateral  line,  and  in  the  steelhead  about 
150.  Last  but  not  least  is  the  Dolly  Varden, 
which,  in  salt  water,  grows  to  an  immense  size,  and 
which  swarms  in  the  streams  and  inlets  of  the 
North. 

These  are  the  principal  species,  but  there  would 
seem  to  be  many  varieties.  From  the  culinary 
point  of  view,  trout  vary  in  an  extraordinary  degree. 
Out  of  the  same  creel,  filled  with  fish  of  the  same 
species,  caught  in  the  same  place,  some  prove  deli- 
cious and  others  only  middling.  In  Lake  Cowichan 
we  found  a  hideous  parasite,  something  like  a 
lamprey,  which  attaches  itself  to  the  big  trout. 
The  fish  afflicted  by  this  loathsome  reptile  were 
always  thin  and  out  of  condition,  and  showed  but 
poor  sport.  In  the  streams  this  parasite  is  washed 
off  by  the  swiftly  flowing  water,  but  in  the  rivers 
we  caught  trout  with  the  mark  of  the  beast  upon 
them. 

Speaking  of  lake  trout,  I  am  inclined  to  believe 
that  if  you  want  to  capture  the  monsters  you  must 
troll  for  them  at  a  depth  which  demands  the  use 


342     Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

of  a  heavy  sinker ;  and  the  heavier  the  sinker  the 
worse  the  sport.  We  caught  some  leviathans  in 
Lake  Cowichan,  using  immense  spoons,  but  the  fish 
taken  on  the  surface  with  grilse  flies  were  always 
small,  —  under  two  pounds.  Fishing  in  the  lake 
we  invariably  caught  twice  the  weight  of  fish  taken 
in  the  river,  but  we  soon  grew  tired  of  the  lake, 
whereas  the  beauty  and  charm  of  the  river  never 
palled.  To  those  who  are  not  prepared  to  camp 
out,  no  better  place  than  the  Cowichan  Hotel  can 
be  found.  It  is  within  a  few  hours'  travel  of 
Victoria,  and  situated  upon  the  edge  of  the  lake. 
You  can  jump  from  your  bed  into  eighteen  feet  of 
pellucid  water  !  And  the  hotel  is  most  comfortable. 
You  are  provided  with  boats  and  luncheons,  and 
dinner  is  served  when  you  return,  no  matter  how 
late  the  hour  may  be.  In  most  American  hotels,  if 
you  miss  the  regular  meals  you  must  go  without 
proper  food,  but  across  the  border  the  tavern- 
keepers  are  more  considerate.  What  man  will 
leave  a  river  when  trout  are  rising  freely?  But 
it  is  hard  indeed  after  a  strenuous  day  with  rod 
and  pole,  to  return  home  to  cold  meats  and  a 
colder  welcome. 

Trout-fishing  in  California,  particularly  in  south- 
ern California,  and  in  smaller  streams  of  Washing- 
ton and  Oregon,  is  tame  sport.  As  a  rule,  the 
fish  are  very  small,  averaging  about  a  quarter  of  a 
pound,  and  in  many  places  may  be  caught  by  the 
sackful ! 

It  is  almost  impossible  to  get  reliable  information 
about  good  trout-fishing  in  streams  and  rivers. 
The  lake-fishing  is  another  matter.     I  have  found 


Fresh  Water  Fishing  343 

it  to  be  a  rule  without  exception  that  if  you  insist 
upon  first  class  sport,  you  must  pay  a  stiff  price 
for  it.  To  reach  rivers  that  are  not,  comparatively 
speaking,  fished  out,  you  must  travel  far  and  wide, 
and  then  —  as  with  small  game  shooting  —  there 
is  the  problem  of  what  to  do  with  your  fish.  In 
the  North,  the  Siwash  Indian  will  smoke  them  for 
his  own  use  in  the  winter,  and  if  you  go  far  afield, 
it  will  be  necessary  to  take  one  or  two  of  these 
fellows  with  you.  They  can  be  hired,  according 
to  their  age  and  accomplishments,  at  a  wage  some- 
where between  fifteen  and  forty  dollars  a  month. 

You  will  find  three  rods,  with  extra  tips,  quite 
sufficient :  one,  as  I  have  said  a  Greenheart,  the 
other  a  split  bamboo  for  light  work,  and  a  stout 
trolling-rod.  You  will  do  well  to  take  a  rifle  with 
you,  for  sooner  or  later  (particularly  in  the  fall) 
you  are  sure  to  see  a  bear.  Bruin  loves  fish,  and 
when  the  salmon  are  running,  he  will  stand  on  a 
sand  bar  and  scoop  them  out  of  the  water.  More- 
over, upon  the  banks  of  all  the  northern  rivers 
berries  grow  in  great  and  varied  profusion,  and 
Bruin  is  a  glutton  for  fruit.  Black-tail  deer  too  are 
common,  and  if  Fortune  smiles  upon  you,  it  is 
possible  that  you  may  have  a  shot  at  a  wapiti. 

If  you  can  sketch,  your  enjoyment  will  be  doubled. 
The  colour  of  this  Far  Northwest  is  enchanting. 
And  the  cool,  lonely  woods  possess  a  fascination 
that  some  artist  may  learn  to  transfer  to  canvas. 
The  great  age  of  the  moss-bearded  pines  and 
spruces  and  redwoods  pricks  the  fancy.  Beneath 
their  fragrant  boughs  primal  man  still  wanders. 
To  the  artist,  these  ancient  groves  are  the  sanctuary 


344    Life  and  Sport  on  the  Pacific  Slope 

of  the  past,  into  which  the  pilgrim  of  to-day  should 
pass  reverently  as  into  aisles  hallowed  by  centuries. 
Through  them  roll  the  great  rivers  to  the  sea. 
Standing  in  the  shade  of  the  huge  ferns,  I  have 
seen  the  canoes  of  the  Indians  glide  by  swiftly  and 
in  silence.  The  men  at  prow  and  helm  are  as 
graven  images  of  bronze.  A  minute  passes  and 
they  are  gone  —  whither  ?  But  the  pines  and 
cedars  remain. 

Now  and  again  you  hear  the  mournful  cry  of  the 
loon,  the  bird  banshee  of  the  lakes,  —  a  cry  so  plain- 
tive, so  pitiful,  that  it  would  seem  to  be  the  sobbing 
protest  of  life  against  laws  under  which  life  has 
being.  Or  the  silence  is  fractured  by  the  crash  of 
some  falling  tree,  and  you  remember  that  a  few 
miles  away  is  a  logging  camp,  and  that  the  years 
of  even  the  patriarchs  are  numbered. 

To  those  who  have  lived  in  this  Silent  Land,  and 
who  are  constrained  to  return  to  the  noisy  market- 
places of  the  world,  there  comes  a  nostalgia  of  the 
woods  and  streams,  a  yearning  love  that  feeds  upon 
the  memory  and  is  never  satisfied  with  its  food. 

What  message  do  these  solitudes  hold  ?  What 
secret  ?  And  for  whom  will  they  break  the  silence 
of  the  centuries  ?  Surely  some  Daniel  will  inter- 
pret for  us  the  writing  upon  these  shining  walls. 
And  the  message,  we  may  predict,  will  be  strong 
and  tender  and  true,  —  a  gospel  of  purity  and  peace, 
of  rest  and  of  renunciation  also. 

May  we  live  to  read  that  message  ! 


APPENDICES 


I 

A  FEW  STATISTICS 

THESE  statistics  are  taken  for  the  most  part  from 
the  "  Commercial  Statistician  "  for  1 900  published 
by  the  San  Francisco  "  Chronicle."  I  am  under  obliga- 
tions to  Mr.  M.  H.  De  Young  for  permission  to  use 
his  figures.  It  will  be  seen  at  a  glance  that  the  fruit 
industry  in  California  has  received  at  last  the  attention 
it  deserves  at  the  hands  of  the  world.  In  the  Annual 
Report  of  the  California  State  Board  of  Trade  written 
by  General  Chipman,  the  Chairman  of  the  Industrial 
Resources  of  California,  I  find  this  significant  paragraph, 
which  I  quote  in  full:  "The  year  of  1898  was  a  year 
of  drought  in  portions  of  the  State,  and  it  was  a  year  of 
much  injury  from  frost.  It  has  been  generally  supposed 
that  the  fruit  industries,  as  well  as  the  cereals,  suffered 
severely,  and  that  there  would  be  a  large  falling  off"  in 
shipments.  Let  us  examine  the  tables.  They  were  made 
from  the  returns  of  the  Transportation  Companies,  and 
represent  actual  shipments  to  points  in  other  States. 
For  the  data  as  to  shipments  by  rail,  I  beg  to  acknowledge 
my  obligations  to  Mr.  A.  D.  Shepard,  Greneral  Freight 
Agent  of  the  Southern  Pacific  Company,  and  to  Mr. 
W.  E.  Bailey,  Auditor  of  the  Santa  F^  System.  The 
shipments  by  sea  are  compiled  from  the  annual  issue  of 
the  San  Francisco  'Journal  of  Commerce.* 

"In  1897  we  sent  away  of  fruit  (including  nuts),  wine, 
brandy,  and  vegetables,  by  rail  and  by  sea,  48,072  car- 
loads (often  tons  each).  In  1898  we  sent  away  56,149 
carloads.     The  following  table  compactly  shows  the  gain 


348 


Appendices 


and  loss  of  each  class  carried  into  the  table,  expressed  in 
carloads  of  ten  tons  each. 


Table  of  Gains  and  Losses,  1897  and  1898  compaked. 
Carloads  of  10  Tons  each. 


Kinds. 

1897. 

1898. 

Gain. 

Loss. 

Green  deciduous 
Citrus  fruits    .     .     . 
Dried  fruits     .     .     . 

Raisins 

Nuts 

Canned  fruits  .     .     . 
Vegetables  .... 
Wines  and  brandy   . 

7,235.0 
9,854.7 
7,515.9 
3,906.5 
580.8 
7,346.4 
4,734.6 
6,897.8 

6,973.2 
18,065.9 
7,666.3 
4,779.6 
581.6 
5,222.0 
3,847.0 
9,014.0 

8,'2ll.2 
150.4 
873.1 

.8 

2,116.2 

261.8 

2,124.4 

888.6 

Totals      .... 

48,071.7 

56,149.6 

11,351.7 

3,274.8 

Net  gain,  carloads 



8,076.9 

.... 

"  Eemembering  the  frost  damage  in  certain  localities  and 
injury  from  drought,  where  water  was  not  obtained  for 
irrigation,  this  is  certainly  a  most  gratifying  result.  The 
increase  in  citrus  fruit  cannot  fail  to  challenge  notice. 
The  best  previous  year  for  this  fruit  was  1895,  when  we 
sent  away  11,582  carloads.  But  1898  exceeds  that  year 
by  6,476  carloads,  and  1897  by  8,211  carloads.  It  is 
also  gratifying  to  note  that  of  1898  shipments  of  oranges 
589  carloads  went  from  Northern  California.  Since  we 
commenced  to  ship  oranges  from  the  north,  the  record 
stands:  1893,  carloads,  4;  1896, carloads,  81;  1897,  car- 
loads, 286 ;  and  last  year,  589.  Considering  that  the  first 
oranges  to  ripen  come  from  the  north,  and  go  into  home 
consumption  largely,  this  is  an  encouraging  showing. 

"The  increase  in  raisin  shipments  over  1897  was  873 
carloads.  The  largest  previous  shipment  of  raisins  was 
in   1894,   being  4,695    carloads;  the  industry  began  to 


Appendices 


349 


decline  after  that  year.  I  think  its  recovery  is  directly 
attributable  to  the  placing  of  a  protective  tariff  duty 
upon  Zante  currants  (a  competitor  of  raisins),  towards 
the  accomplishment  of  which  this  Board  exerted  a  very 
considerable  influence.  To  the  present  schedule  of  duties 
is  due  also  a  better  feeling  as  to  the  citrus  industry. 
The  large  increase  in  wines  and  brandy  gives  evidence 
of  better  times  for  the  producer.  The  increase  was  about 
30  per  cent  over  1897." 

I  now  append  a  table  showing  the  gains  of  ten  years. 


1888. 

1899. 

Dried  prunes,   lbs. 

Figs, 

Raisins,               " 

Peaches              " 

Apricots,            " 

Apples,              " 

Pears, 

Plums, 

Beet  sugar         " 

8,050,000 

175,000 

19,000,000 

8,650,000 

3,250,000 
550,000 
150,000 
365,000 

4,280,000 

96,500,000 
2,000,000 

66,000,000 
8,000,000 
5,000,000 
5,000,000 
5,000,000 
2,500,000 

42,500,000 

Total    .... 

44,470.000 

232,500,000 

Of  canned  fruits  put  up  in  cans  weighing  two  and  a  half 
pounds,  and  packed  in  cases  containing  two  dozen  cans, 
we  find  in  1888,  1,368,000  cases,  and  in  1899,  2,900,000 
cases.  Of  fresh  fruit  sent  East  in  1895,  there  were  4,568 
carloads  against  6,469  carloads  in  1899.  Of  oranges,  there 
were  1,325,000  boxes  exported  in  1895,  against  3,654,000 
boxes  in  1899.     I  cannot  quote  the  figures  for  1888. 

In  looking  over  the  above  tables,  it  will  be  noted  that 
the  crop  of  apricots  and  peaches  in  1899  was  small.  The 
crop  of  1897  in  apricots  (dried  fruits  exported)  was 
30,000,000,  and  the  exported  crop  of  dried  peaches  in 
the  same  year  27,150,000. 


35 


Appendices 


Cereals. 

Our   Wheat  Crop. 

Our  wheat  crop  for  1899  was  about  an  average 
one.  The  acreage  and  yield  since  1893  have  been  as 
follows,  according  to  the  estimate  of  our  State  Board  of 
Agriculture  :  — 

Acreage  and  Yield  since  1893. 


Year. 

Acreage. 

Bushels. 

Per  Acre. 

For  U.  S. 

1893 

2,875,307 

31,964,559 

11.1 

11.4 

1894 

2,587,568 

26,071,510 

10.0 

13.2 

1895 

2,033,938 

20,779,832 

10.2 

13.7 

1896 

2,423,585 

29,655,174 

12.2 

12.4 

1897 

2,665,943 

30,586,310 

11.4 

11.4 

1898 

12,404,166 

.  .  . 

1899 

2,995,445 

30,833,333    • 

10.2 

•  •  • 

The  relative  position  of  California  as  a  wheat  producer 
has  been  as  follows  for  the  past  three  years  :  — 

Wheat  Crop,  1897. 

Bushels. 

World 2,269,352,000 

United  States 530,149,168 

California 32,394,020 

Wheat  Crop,  1898. 

Bushels. 

World 2,907,000,000 

United  States 710,000,000 

California 12,404,166 

Wheat  Crop,  1899.     (Estimated.) 

Bushels. 

World 2,540,000,000 

United  States 717,300,000 

California 30,833,333 


Appendices  351 

From  the  foregoing  we  may  infer  that,  roughly  speak- 
ing, California  usually  produces  about  6  per  cent  of  the 
wheat  crop  of  the  United  States  and  1  per  cent  of  the 
world's  crop. 

The  value  of  the  wheat  crop  of  the  State  for  the  last 
three  years,  including  the  estimate  of  1899,  has  been  as 
follows  :  — 

1897  at  $1.40  per  cental $27,159,720 

1898  at  $1.15       «*  6,670,000 

1899  at  $1.05       "  19,425,000 

The  prices  per  bushel  are  84  cents,  69  cents,  and  63 
cents  for  the  respective  years. 

The  Barley  Crop. 

Next  to  wheat  the  principal  cereal  crop  of  the  State  is 
barley,  of  which  we  export  large  quantities  to  Europe  for 
brewing  purposes.  The  requirements  of  barley  for  malt- 
ing purposes  are  light  colour,  plump  grain,  and  weight 
not  less  than  forty-six  pounds  to  the  bushel.  It  must  be 
clean  and  free  from  broken  grains.  The  quality  of  our 
barley  is  such  that  it  finds  the  highest  favour  with 
European  brewers,  and  we  always  have  an  assured  mar- 
ket at  the  highest  prices  for  all  the  barley  which  we  can 
produce  that  complies  with  brewing  requirements.  Barley 
is  a  comparatively  small  item  of  the  grain  exports  of  the 
United  States,  and  of  the  total  shipments  California 
furnishes  by  far  the  greater  part.  In  fact,  the  United 
States  exports  of  barley  fluctuate  almost  in  a  direct 
ratio  with  the  size  of  the  California  crop.  For  example, 
in  1897,  when  California  produced  26,309,325  bushels 
of  barley,  the  exports  from  the  United  States  were 
11,237,077  bushels  (fiscal  year  1898),  while  of  the  crop 
of  1898,  which  in  California  amounted  to  but  11,413,043 
bushels,   the    exports  from   the    United   States   fell    to 


35 


Appendices 


2,267,403  bushels.  Since  the  harvesting  of  the  crop  of 
1899  exports  of  barley  from  this  State  have  rapidly- 
increased,  and,  for  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the 
State,  our  exports  of  barley  have  exceeded  those  of  wheat, 
the  comparative  figures  from  the  1st  of  July  to  this 
writing  being  as  follows  :  — 

Barley  and  wheat  exported  since  July  1,  1899  : 

Centals.  Bushels. 

Wheat 1,485,115  2,441,858 

Barley 2,390,220  5,196,130 

The  value  of  the  barley  exported  exceeds  by  more  than 
$300,000  the  value  of  our  exported  wheat.  It  will  also 
be  noted  that  during  the  first  six  months  of  shipments 
of  the  crop  of  1899,  the  exports  of  barley  from  California 
alone  have  been  more  than  double  those  of  the  previous 
full  fiscal  year  from  the  whole  United  States. 

Our  production  of  barley  since  1893  has  been  as 
follows  :  — 


California  Barley  Product  —  Bushels. 


Year. 

Acreage. 

Product. 

Per  Acre. 

1893 
1894 
1895 
1896 
1897 
1898 
1899 

702,321 
972,449 

1,071,998 
918,384 

1,052,373 

*  971,847 

16,780,952 
20,834,470 
22,913,617 
19,837,094 
26,309,325 
11,413,043 
20,782,608 

23.8 
21.4 
21.4 
21.6 
25.0 

21.3 

*  Estimated.    No  figures  of  acreage  of  1898. 

Prices  of  barley  are  materially  lower  than  last  year, 
when  the  great  deficiency  in  our  crop  raised  the  prices 
for  feeding  to  a  figure  only  limited  by  the  price  of  im- 
ported maize.     A  price  of  $1.25  per  cental  would  perhaps 


Appendices 


353 

be  a  fair  rate  at  which  to  estimate  the  value  of  the  barley 
crop  of  1898,  and  85  cents  is  perhaps  a  fair  estimate  of 
the  value  of  that  of  1899  ;  upon  this  basis  the  crop 
of  1898  was  worth  $6,562,500,  and  that  of  1899, 
$8,075,000. 

Corn  and  Oat  Crops. 

There  are  no  reliable  statistics  of  the  corn  and  oat 
crops  of  the  State.  The  State  Board  of  Agriculture 
collects  the  data  of  acreage  of  all  cereal  crops  as  reported 
by  the  County  Assessors,  and  upon  the  best  information 
attainable  estimates  the  yield  per  acre,  and  from  these 
computes  the  total  crop.  The  Secretary  of  the  Board 
does  not  pretend  that  these  figures  are  reliable,  but  only 
that  they  are  the  best  approximations  that  can  be  made 
with  the  means  supplied  by  the  State.  They  are  pub- 
lished only  biennially,  and  this  is  not  the  year  for  their 
publication.  There  are  no  commercial  estimates,  although 
**  guesses "  are  sometimes  made.  I  am  therefore  only 
able  to  reproduce  the  figures  given  last  year,  which  are  as 
follows  :  — 

Crops  of  Corn  and  Oats. 


Tear. 

Corn. 

Oats. 

Acres. 

Bushels. 

Per  Acre. 

Acres. 

Bushels. 

Per  Acre. 

1893 
1894 
1895 
1896 
1897 

71.676 
98,011 
93,945 
85,531 
81,264 

2,319,257 
2,613,516 
2,556,500 
2,602,730 
2,753,000 

32.3 
26.6 
27.2 
30.4 
33.7 

61,039 
120,229 
111,367 
116,527 
122,253 

1,406,350 
3,384,007 
3,160,661 
3,433.920 
3,670,500 

23.0 
21.4 
27.4 
30.0 
23.0 

Oats  are  not  considered  a  profitable  crop  in  California, 
except  in  the  moist  lands. 

It  will  be  noted  above  that  the  yield  in  bushels  of  wheat 


23 


354  Appendices 

per  acre,  while  it  compares  favourably  with  the  jrield  per 
acre  in  other  States  of  the  Union  (being  about  eleven 
bushels  per  acre),  is  less  than  one-third  of  what  is  obtained 
in  England,  and  one-fourth  of  what  is  harvested  per  acre 
in  Denmark.  This  is  significant.  American  farmers  do 
not,  as  a  rule,  prepare  the  ground  properly;  they  use 
little  guano,  and  summer-fallowing  is  the  exception  rather 
than  the  rule.  Those  who  have  given  this  important 
subject  the  attention  it  deserves,  are  of  opinion  that  im- 
proved methods  will  enhance  enormously  the  average 
yield  of  wheat  per  acre  throughout  the  United  States. 

Wine. 

1888.  1899. 

Wine  in  gallons    .     .     .     7,305,000    .    .     13,150,000 

Miscellaneous. 
1899  Wool  Crop        29,500,000  lbs. 

"  Hops  8,325,000  " 

1898         Butter  23,691,321  '*  (No  returns  for '99.) 

"  Cheese  5,148,372  " 

I  regret  that  I  am  unable  to  obtain  reliable  figures  in 
regard  to  other  industries :  cattle,  hogs,  horses,  the  bean 
crop,  the  olive  crop,  the  amount  of  honey,  etc. ;  but 
the  returns  from  the  lumber  industry  obtained  for  the 
first  time  are  not  without  interest.  The  commercial 
woods  of  California  are  redwood,  sugar  pine,  yellow  pine, 
spruce,  cedar,  and  fir.  The  returns  show  the  output  for 
1898  in  thousand  feet. 

Redwood.  Sugar  Pine.  Yellow  Pine.  Spruce.  Cedar.    Fir. 
276,451  42,176  180,454  22,688        2,015     24,210 

Total  Redwood 276,451,596 

Total  all  others 327,565,171 

Total  all  kinds 604,016,767 


Appendices 


355 


THE  MINERAL  PRODUCTIONS  OF  CALIFORNIA  FOR 
SEVEN  YEARS. 

Compiled  by  Charles  G.  Yale,  Statistician. 

Under  the  direction  of  A.  S.  Cooper,  State  Mineralogist. 


1891. 

1892. 

1893. 

Quantity. 

Value. 

Quantity. 

Value. 

Quantity. 

Value. 

Antimony,  tons  .     . 

none 

none 

none 

none. 

50 

$2,250 

Asbestos,  tons    .     . 

66 

$3,960 

30 

$1,830 

50 

2,500 

Asphalt,  tons      .    . 

4,000 

40,000 

7,550 

75,500 

950 

161,250 

Bituminous  rock,  tons 

39,962 

154,164 

24,000 

72,000 

32,000 

192,036 

Borax,  pounds    .     . 

8,533,337 

640,000 

11,050,495 

838,787 

7,910,563 

593,292 

Cement,  barrels 

5,000 

15,000 

5,000 

15,000 

none 

none 

Chrome,  tons     .     . 

1,372 

20,580 

1,500 

22,500 

3,319 

49,785 

Clay  (brick),  M.  .    . 

— 

— 

— 

— 

103,900 

801,750 

Clay  (pottery),  tons 

100,000 

50,000 

100,000 

50,000 

24,855 

67,284 

Coal,  tons  .... 

93,301 

204,902 

85,178 

209,711 

72,603 

167,555 

Copper,  pounds .    . 

3,397,455 

424,675 

2,980,944 

342,808 

239,682 

21,571 

— 

12,728.869 

— 

12,571,900 

— 

12,422,811 

Granite'    '.'.'.'. 

— 

1,300,000 

— 

1,000,000 

— 

628,272 

Gypsum,  tons     .     . 

2,000 

20,000 

2,000 

20,000 

1,620 

14,280 

Infusorial  earth,  tons 

none 

none 

none 

none 

50 

2,000 

Iron  ore,  tons     .    . 

— 

— 

— 

— 

250 

2,000 

Lead, tons      .     .     . 

570 

49,020 

680 

54,400 

333 

24,975 

Limestone  and  Lime 

— 

300,000 

— 

300,000 

301,276 

Macadam,  cu.  yds. 

— 

— 

— 

— 

27^^500 

256,875 

Magnesite,  tons  .    . 

1,500 

15,000 

1,500 

15,000 

1,093 

10,930 

Manganese,  tons     . 

705 

3,830 

300 

3,000 

270 

4,050 

Marble 

— 

100,000 

— 

115,000 



40,000 

Mineral  paint,  tons 

22 

880 

25 

750 

590 

26,795 

Mineral  water,  gals. 

334,553 

135,959 

331,875 

162,019 

383,179 

190,667 

Natural  gas    .     .     . 

— 

30,000 

— 

55,000 



68,500 

Onyx  and  Travertine 

— 

2,400 

— 

1,800 

— 

27,000 

Petroleum,   barrels  ) 
of  42^  gals.        .      J 

323,600 

401,264 

385,049 

561,333 

470,179 

608,092 

Platinum,  ozs.    .     . 

100 

500 

80 

440 

76 

517 

Quicksilver,     flasks ) 
ofTG^bs.    .     .     J 

22,904 

1,036,386 

27,993 

1,139,600 

30,164 

1,108,527 

Rubble,  tons  .    .     . 

— 

— 

— 

_ 

99,600 

199,200 

Salt,  tons  .... 

20,904 

90,303 

23,570 

101,788 

50,500 

213,000 

Sandstone  .... 

— 

100,009 

— 

50,000 

— 

26,314 

Serpentine,  sup.  ft. 

— 

— 

— 

— 

— 



SUver    

— 

953,157 

— 

463,602 

— 

537,157 

Slate,  squares     .     . 

4,000 

24,000 

3,500 

21,000 

3,000 

21,000 

Soapstone,  tons  .    . 

— 

— 

— 

— 

400 

17,750 

Soda,  tons .... 

— 

— 

— 





Tin,  pounds   .     .     . 

125,289 

27,564 

162,000 

32,400 

— 

— 

Total  .... 

$18,872,413 

$18,300,168 

$'8,811,261 

356 


Appendices 


THE  MINERAL  PRODUCTIONS  OF  CALIFORNIA  FOR 
SEVEN  YEARS.     {Continued.) 


1894. 

1895. 

18%. 

Quantity. 

Value. 

Quantity. 

Value. 

Quantity. 

Value. 

Antimony,  tons  .     . 

150 

$6,000 

33 

$1,485 

17 

$2,320 

Asbestos,  tons     .    . 

50 

2,260 

25 

1,000 

none 

none 

Asphalt,  tons      .     . 

11,698 

233,800 

25,525 

170,500 

20,914 

362,590 

Bituminous  rock,  tons 

31,214 

115,193 

38,921 

121,586 

49,456 

122,500 

Borax,  pounds    .     . 

11,540,099 

807,807 

11,918,000 

595,900 

13,508,000 

675,400 

Cement,  barrels 

8,000 

21,600 

16,383 

32,556 

9,500 

28,260 

Chrome,  tons      .     . 

3,680 

39,980 

1,740 

16,795 

786 

7,775 

Clay  (brick),  M.  .     . 

81,675 

457,125 

131,772 

672,360 

24,000 

524,740 

Clay  (pottery),  tons 

28,475 

35,073 

37,660 

39,685 

41,907 

62,900 

Coal,  tons .... 

59,887 

139,862 

79,858 

193,790 

70,649 

161,335 

Copper,  pounds .    . 

738,594 

72,486 

225,650 

21,901 

1,992,844 

199,519 

Gold 

— 

13,923,281 

— 

15,334,318 

— 

17,181,562 

Granite 

— 

295,797 

— 

297,667 

— 

278,588 

Gypsum,  tons     .     . 

2,446 

24,584 

5,158 

51,014 

1,310 

12,580 

Infusorial  earth,  tons 

51 

2,040 

none 

none 

none 

none 

Iron  ore,  tons     .     . 

200 

1,500 

none 

none 

none 

none 

Lead, tons      .     .     . 

475 

28,500 

796 

49,364 

646 

38,805 

Limestone  and  Lime 

— 

337,975 

— 

457,784 

— 

332,617 

441,967 

369,438 

840,650 

700,987 

646,646 

510,245 

Magnesite,  tons  .     . 

1,440 

10,240 

2,200 

17,000 

1,500 

11,000 

Manganese,  tons     . 

523 

5,512 

880 

8,200 

518 

3,415 

Marble 

— 

98,326 



56,566 

— 

32,415 

Mineral  paint,  tons 

610 

14,140 

750 

8,425 

395 

5,540 

Mineral  water,  gals. 

402,275 

184,481 

701,397 

291,500 

808,843 

337,434 

Natural  gas    .     .     . 
Onyx  and  Travertine 

— 

79,072 

— 

112,000 

— 

114,457 

— 

20,000 

— 

12,000 

— 

24,000 

Petroleum,    barrels ) 
of  42J  gals.     .     .  ] 
Platinum,  ozs.     .     . 

783,078 

1,064,521 

1,245,339 

1,000,235 

1,257,780 

1,180,793 

100 

600 

150 

900 

162 

944 

Quicksilver,     flasks ) 
of  76§  lbs.  .     .     .  ) 
Rubble,  tons  .     .     . 

30,416 

934,000 

36,104 

1,337,131 

30,765 

1,075,449 

219,933 

295,400 

414,038 

394,952 

313,973 

329,639 

Salt,  tons  .... 

49,131 

140,087 

53,031 

150,576 

64,743 

153,244 

Sandstone  .... 

— 

113,592 

— 

35,373 

— 

28,378 

Serpentine,  sup.  feet 

— 

— 

4,000 

4,000 

1,500 

6,000 

Silver 

— 

297,332 



599,789 

— 

422,464 

Slate,  squares     .     . 

1,800 

11,700 

1,350 

9,450 

500 

2,500 

Soapstone,  tons  .     . 

none 

none 

25 

375 

none 

none 

Soda,  tons .... 

1,530 

20,000 

1,900 

47,500 

3,000 

65,000 

Tin,  pounds    .     .    . 

— 

— 

— 

— 

— 

— 

Total  .... 

820,203,294 

$22,844,664 

$24,291,398 

Appendices 


i^7 


THE  MINERAL  PRODUCTIONS  OF  CALIFORNIA  FOR 
SEVEN  YEARS.     {Continued.) 


18^. 

Quantity. 

Value. 

Antimony,  tons 

Asphalt,  tons 

Bituminous  rock,  tons    .... 

Borax,  tons 

Cement,  barrels 

Clay  (brick),  M 

Clay  (pottery),  tons    ...... 

Coal,  tons 

Copper,  pounds 

Gold 

Granite,  cu.  ft 

Gypsum,  tons 

Infusorial  earth,  tons      .... 

Lead,  pounds 

Lime,  barrels 

Limestone,  tons 

Macadam,  tons 

Magnesite,  tons 

Manganese,  tons 

Marble,  cu.  ft 

Mineral  paint,  lbs 

Mineral  waters,  gals 

Natural  gas,  cu.  ft 

Paving  blocks,  M 

Platinum,  ozs 

Petroleum,  barrels 

Quicksilver,  flasks 

Rubble,  tons 

Salt,  tons 

Sandstone,  cu.  ft 

Serpentine,  cu.  ft 

Silver 

Slate,  squares 

Soda,  tons 

25 
22,697 
45,470 
8,000 
18,000 
97,468 
24,592 
87,449 
13,638,626 

339,288 

2,200 

■    5 

596,000 

287,800 

36,796 

487,91 1 

1,143 

504 

4,102 

1,155,280 

1,-508,192 

63,920,000 

1,711 

150 

1,911,569 

26,648 

333,212 

67,851 

77,000 

2,500 

400 
5,000 

$3,500 

404,350 

128,173 

1,080,000 

66,000 

563,240 

30,290 

196,255 

1,540,666 

15,871,401 

188,024 

19,250 

200 

20,264 

252,900 

38,556 

313,087 

13,671 

4,080 

7,280 

8,165 

345,363 

62,657 

35,235 

900 

1,918.269 

993,445 

287,025 

157,520 

24,086 

2,500 

452,789 

2,800 

110.000 

Total 

$25,142,441 

358 


Appendices 


The  Relative  Position  op  California  to  Other  States. 


Population       .    .    .    Twenty-second 

Wealth,  per  capita  ....  First 

Size Second 

Savings  deposits      ....  Fourth 

Gold  output Second 

Wheat  yield Second 

Baisins First 

Hops Second 

Barley Second 

Hay Fifth 

Lumber Second 

First 


Honey First 

Prunes First 

Oranges First 

Beans First 

Wool Third 

Borax First 

Nuts Second 

Fruits First 

Lemons First 

Expenditure  for  Schools  .     .  Eighth 

Quicksilver First 

Teachers'  salaries  (average) .  First 


Condition  of  California  Banks. 


Besoubces. 


281  Banks. 


285  Banks. 


282  Banks. 


Bank  premises 

Other  real  estate  .... 
Invested  in  stocks,  bonds,  ) 

and  warrants     .     .     .     .  ) 
Loans  on  real  estate  .     .    . 
Loans  on  stocks,  bonds,  and  | 

warrants j 

Loans  on  other  securities  . 
Loans  on  personal  security 
Money  on  hand  .... 
Due  from  banks  and  bankers 
Other  assets 

Totals 

Liabilities. 

Capital  paid  up      .... 
Reserve    fimd    and    profit ) 

and  loss ) 

Due  depositors 

State,     city,     and    county  | 

money \ 

Due  banks  and  bankers 
Other  liabilities     .... 

Totals 


$7,174,932  88 
15,130,612  03 

40,292,194  19 

116,794,723  21 

18,458,983  18 

4,449,314  29 
51,109,071  30 
24,001,393  01 
21,875,832  36 

3,128,399  17 


$302,415,455  62 


$52,224,381  85 

27,549,123  39 

206,481,600  45 

100,545  71 

9,292,573  04 
6,767,231  18 


$7,105,034  31 
17,594,326  88 

52,340,237  14 

111,283,350  18 

19,041,115  21 

7,295,105  59 
57,815,271  76 
31,242,296  76 
23,451,148  01 

3,724,645  74 


$6,865,426  30 
18,334,109  40 

66,297,031  54 

107,104,395  41 

20,631,893  72 

7,298,780  31 
60,320,997  84 
31,968,016  03 
34,312,678  36 

5,307,639  11 


$330,892,531  58 


$358,446,968  02 


$50,870,258  21 

28,296,584  14 

232,709,284  16 

177,718  29 

12,380,739  94 
6,457,946  84 


$46,801,318  62 

29,123,504  78 

256,864,395  47 

491,478  95 

14,044,910  68 
11,121,359  52 


$302,415,455  62 


$330,892,531  58  $358,446,968  02 


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Appendices 


359 


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n 

HOKTICULTUEE 

THE  first  questions  for  the  would-be  horticulturist  to 
determine  are  :  industry  and  locality.  In  Cali- 
fornia he  has  the  choice  of  hill  or  valley,  of  the  seaboard 
or  the  interior,  of  climates  which  include  the  snows  of 
Shasta  in  the  north,  and  in  the  south  the  everlasting  sun- 
shine of  San  Diego.  Of  the  many  industries  which 
challenge  attention,  it  is  sufficient  to  name  the  prune,  the 
apricot,  the  peach,  the  olive,  the  apple  and  pear,  and  the 
citrus  fruits  :  the  lemon  and  orange. 

The  settler  of  course  wants  as  much  as  he  can  get  for 
his  money ;  and  I  take  for  granted  that  he  has,  or  will 
have,  a  wife  and  family.  It  behoves  him,  therefore,  to 
consider  not  soil  and  climate  alone,  but  those  advantages, 
social,  educational,  and  religious,  lacking  which  life  in  a 
new  country  may  prove  not  worth  the  living.  A  man  of 
small  means  cannot  afford  to  make  mistakes ;  he  has  no 
capital  to  squander  in  costly  experiments ;  and  it  is  cer- 
tain that  he  will  make  mistakes,  that  he  will  lose  both 
time  and  money,  unless  he  is  prepared  to  profit  by  the 
experience  and  advice  of  others.  On  this  account  alone 
it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  select  a  locality  where  the 
industry  adopted  has  passed  the  experimental  stage. 
Most  young  Englishmen,  particularly  those  of  the  upper 
and  upper-middle  class,  make  their  homes  in  places  where 
Ishmael  would  starve.  They  try  to  combine  two  things 
which  have  no  affinity  for  each  other,  viz.,  sport  and 
money-making.     Accordingly,  they  buy  cheap  land  far 


Appendices  361 


from  civilisation,  and  discover  too  late  that  a  little  rough 
shooting  is  but  a  sorry  equivalent  for  poverty,  isolation, 
and  wasted  endeavours. 

In  horticulture  the  best  soil,  the  best  climate,  the  best 
advice  are  none  too  good  for  the  man  whose  future  happi- 
ness and  prosperity  are  at  stake.  And  so,  if  prune-grow- 
ing be  the  industry  chosen,  I  would  urge  the  settler  to 
buy  land  in  Santa  Clara  county  in  preference  to  other 
counties,  not  because  the  prune  will  not  thrive  elsewhere, 
but  because  the  prune  output  of  this  county  is  nearly 
three  times  greater  than  the  entire  product  of  the  rest  of 
America,  and  has  a  larger  income  from  its  fruit  than  any 
other  county  in  the  world.  In  like  manner,  the  man 
who  proposes  to  devote  his  energies  and  capital  to  the 
cultivation  of  oranges  and  lemons  would  be  justified,  in 
my  opinion,  in  going  south,  to  Orange,  Eiverside,  Los 
Angeles,  or  San  Bernardino  counties,  instead  of  north  to 
Oroville;  not  because  the  Oroville  oranges  are  in  any 
respect  inferior  to  those  grown  in  the  south,  but  because 
the  south  is  par  excellence  the  citrus  fruit  belt  of  the 
world.  And  let  it  be  remembered  that  land  (even  in  the 
heart  of  Santa  Clara  county)  varies  immensely :  you  will 
find  thin,  gravelly,  unproductive  soil  side  by  side  of  the 
richest  alluvial  deposits. 

The  settler  will  ask  —  How  can  I,  a  stranger,  tell  the 
good  from  the  bad  ?  The  answer  is  obvious,  and  lies  on 
the  tip  of  a  thousand  tongues.  In  a  thickly  settled  com- 
munity scores  of  persons  may  be  found  who  will  tell  you 
the  history  of  the  piece  of  land  in  question.  Find  out  what 
crops  grew  thereon,  who  owned  it  in  the  past,  the  nature 
of  the  subsoil,  the  depth  to  water,  and  so  forth.  It  is 
inexpedient  to  accept  blindly  the  testimony  of  one  wit- 
ness as  to  the  merit  or  demerit  of  any  piece  of  land,  parti- 
cularly if  that  witness  be  owner  or  agent ;  but  Truth  may 
be  found,  if  you  seek  for  her  diligently. 


362  Appendices 

Cheap  land  is  nearly  always  poor  land.  And  it  will 
pay  the  horticulturist  to  give  more  than  its  value  for  the 
good  rather  than  less  for  the  bad.  The  men  who  have 
failed  as  fruit-growers  bought,  as  a  rule,  cheap  land, 
planted  cheap  trees,  and  employed  cheap  labour. 

The  highest  priced  land  lies  within  a  few  miles  of  the 
large  towns,  but  on  that  very  account  it  offers  irresistible 
advantages  to  the  man  of  small  means.  "While  your 
trees  are  coming  into  bearing,  you  must  support  yourself 
by  labour,  or  by  the  sale  of  berries  and  vegetables  and 
eggs  and  poultry.  In  the  big  fruit-growing  districts  of 
California,  men,  women,  and  children  can  earn  good 
wages  picking,  packing,  and  canning  the  fruit,  while  the 
merchants  gladly  buy  the  small  products  of  the  farm. 
In  fine,  a  man  of  muscle  and  intelligence  can  make  a 
handsome  living  upon  a  few  acres  near  a  large  town, 
whereas  he  would  probably  starve  upon  a  government 
claim  of  160  acres  five-and-twenty  miles  away. 

Let  it  not  be  forgotten  also  that  proximity  to  a  town 
enables  the  horticulturist  to  sell  his  crop,  either  on  the 
tree,  or  picked,  or  dried,  without  any  tedious  and  perhaps 
expensive  delays.  More :  if,  for  reasons  unforeseen,  he 
wishes  to  go  elsewhere,  his  land  near  a  town  will  sell 
quickly;  in  the  hills,  far  from  railroad  and  civilisation, 
a  ranch,  however  good,  may  hang  for  years  upon  the 
owner's  hands. 

I  submit  some  figures,  but  I  anticipate  criticism  of 
them,  for  I  am  aware  of  the  amazing  discrepancy  between 
the  experience  of  two  men,  let  us  say,  living  side  by  side, 
growing  the  same  fruit,  both  successful,  both  entitled  to 
speak  with  authority.  My  figures,  collected  at  first  hand, 
represent  the  mean  between  extravagance  and  a  too  rigor- 
ous economy. 

Roughly  speaking,  the  cost  of  setting  out  a  vineyard, 
or  an   orchard   of  prunes,  or  peaches,  apricots,  apples, 


Appendices  363 

olives,  or  cherries,  is  about  the  same.  Citrus  fruits  are 
more  expensive,  as  will  be  seen.  And  the  profits  are  less 
variant  than  one  might  suppose,  if  an  average  be  struck 
between  the  fat  and  lean  years.  The  income  should  be 
at  least  ten  per  cent  on  the  total  investment,  and  often 
very  much  more. 

Table  showing  prices  of  land  per  acre  :  — 

Hill  land  for  deciduous  fruit $30  to    $50 

Valley  land  for  deciduous  fruit 100  to    200 

Land,  without  water  right,  for  citrus  fruits    .     .  75  to    150 
Land,  with  water  right,  for  citrus  fruits     .     .     .  200  to    300 
Land,  with  water  right,  and  of  the  choicest  qual- 
ity, near  Riverside 300  to    400 

Orchard  in  bearing  of  deciduous  fruit    ....  300  to  1000 

Orchard  in  bearing  of  citrus  fruit 500  to  2000 

These  prices  are  for  land  in  the  choicest  localities  and 
situated  near  large  towns.  Some  land  companies  in  the 
State  undertake  to  sell  valley  land,  plant  it  to  trees, 
deciduous  or  citrus,  care  for  the  same  during  three  years, 
and  then  turn  it  over  to  the  purchaser.  Their  figures 
average  per  acre  $250  for  deciduous  fruits,  $300  for  olive 
trees,  and  $350  for  citrus  fruits.  I  cannot  commend  this 
system  of  purchase.  Corporations  are  said  to  have  no 
conscience,  and  it  is  obvious  that  a  company  cannot  give 
to  these  orchards  the  individual  care  they  need.  An 
orchard  is  like  a  kindergarten :  each  tree  in  it  has  its 
idiosyncrasies.  If  you  do  not  wish  to  do  your  own  work, 
it  is  possible  to  find  in  the  districts  I  have  named  reli- 
able orchardists  who  will  take  charge  of  your  property. 
I  have  made  contracts  with  such  men  to  plough,  culti- 
vate, prune,  and  supervise  orchards  of  deciduous  fruit  at 
rates  ranging  from  $8  to  $12  per  acre.  These  rates  do 
not  include,  of  course,  the  picking  and  drying  of  the  fruit. 

In  Santa  Clara  county,  an  orchard  of  prunes  or  apricots 


364  Appendices 

in  full  bearing  should  pay  a  net  profit  of  $100  per  acre. 
Many  pay  more,  very  many  pay  far  less.  In  and  around 
Riverside  and  Orange  are  groves  of  ten  acres  which  pay 
an  annual  income  of  $3,000,  but  an  average  grove  is  not 
nearly  so  remunerative.  At  the  same  time,  what  man 
has  done,  man  can  do,  and  the  horticulturist  who  fails 
Las  generally  nobody  but  himself  to  blame. 

I  can  remember  the  time  when  wiseacres  predicted 
that  horticulture  in  California  would  be  overdone.  Since 
then  the  different  fruit-growing  industries  have  assumed 
a  stupendous  importance,  and  to-day  California's  orchards 
and  vineyards  bring  in  more  money  than  the  exports  of 
her  cereals.  A  glance  at  the  statistics  at  the  end  of  this 
appendix  will  satisfy  any  intelligent  person  that  —  as 
Horace  Greeley  predicted  more  than  forty  years  ago  — 
"  Fruit  is  destined  to  be  the  ultimate  glory  of  California." 

With  new  markets  opening  in  the  Philippines  and  all 
over  the  Far  East,  with  an  ever-increasing  demand  for 
her  wares  at  home  and  abroad,  with  cheaper  transporta- 
tion, with  co-operation  on  the  part  of  producers,  with 
better  and  more  economic  methods  of  handling  her  pro- 
ducts, Horticulture  in  California  holds  out  her  arms  to 
the  world,  not  overdone,  not  played  out,  but  young,  fresh, 
and  vigorous  —  another  Atalanta,  rejoicing  because  she 
has  outstripped  all  competitors. 


A  Short  Catechism  op  Interest  to  Horticulturists. 

Q.  What  is  the  cost  of  planting  one  acre  to  prunes, 
peaches,  apricots,  or  vines  ? 

A.  The  prune  is  par  excellence  the  fruit,  for  although 
an  apricot  or  peach  orchard  costs  no  more  to  cultivate 
and  care  for,  and  the  peach  bears  in  three  years,  yet  these 
fruits  —  while  they  command  a  higher  average  price  than 


Appendices 


365 


the  prune  —  are  more  subject  to  climatic  changes.  It  is 
better  to  have  an  average  crop  of  prunes  every  year  than 
a  bumper  crop  of  apricots  one  season  and  a  total  failure 
the  next.  In  the  estimates  submitted,  cost  of  trees  is 
not  counted  in.  Prunes  may  be  bought  (the  French  is 
the  leading  variety)  from  4  cts.  up  to  7  cts. ;  apricots, 

8  cts. ;  peaches,  8  cts.  and  9  cts.  Vine  cuttings  are  worth 
50  cts.  to  $2  per  thousand,  and  the  cost  of  setting  out  a 
vineyard,  with  the  vines  from  seven  to  eight  feet  apart, 
and  cultivating  the  same  till  maturity,  is  about  two-thirds 
that  of  setting  out  an  orchard  of  prunes  where  the  trees 
are  one  hundred  to  the  acre. 

The  following  estimate  was  taken  from  the  books  of  a 
responsible  prune-grower.  It  is  the  total  cost  of  setting 
out  and  caring  for  a  fifty-acre  prune  orchard,  including 
every  expense  item :  not  omitting  interest,  computed  at 

9  per  cent  on  original  investment,  and  the  cost  of 
squirrel  poison,  etc.  I  believe  that  orchards  can  be  set 
out  and  maintained  for  much  less,  but  the  man  who 
bases  his  figures  upon  mine  is  within  safe  territory. 


1st  year      .     . 
2nd    "        .     . 
3rd    "        .    . 

.     .   $1,819. 

.     .        577. 

.     .     .         503. 

4th    «        .     . 

.     .         499. 

5th    "        .    . 
6th    «        .    . 

.     .         571. 
.     .         463. 

\  crop  may  be  counted  on 

In  the  7th  year  the  orchard  comes  into  full  bearing. 

Eoughly  speaking,  it  will  be  seen  that  the  annual  cost 
of  an  orchard  per  acre  after  the  first  year  is  about  $10. 

The  second  estimate  submitted  is  from  an  orchardist 
located  upon  our  ranch.  He  is  thoroughly  responsible 
and  capable.  He  is  willing  to  agree  with  any  intending 
purchaser  to  plant  an  orchard  to  prunes,  to  take  care 
of  it  entirely  for  the  sum  of  $20  per  acre  for  the  first 


366  Appendices 

year,  $11  per  acre  for  the  second  year,  and  for  every 
succeeding  year  $10,  turning  over  to  the  owner  the  pro- 
ceeds from  fruit  after  the  fourth  year,  less  expenses  of 
picking,  drying,  etc.  ^ 

Q.  In  how  many  years  do  these  trees  bear  remunera- 
tive crops  ^ 

Peaches 3  years. 

Prunes 6     " 

Apricots 6     " 

Vines 4-5    " 

Q.   What  is  a  remunerative  crop  ? 

The  value  of  a  crop  is  determined  by  the  laws  of 
supply  and  demand,  but  generally  speaking  a  small  crop 
commands  a  big  price,  and  a  big  crop  a  small  price.  The 
wise  man  must  strike  an  average  between  the  $2,000.00 
received  for  the  crop  of  cherries  from  one  acre,  and  the 
total  failure  from  an  acre  of  the  same  fruit  near  by. 
Roughly  speaking  a  fair  prune  orchard  in  full  bearing 
should  net  to  the  owner  not  less  than  $100  per  acre  per 
annum,  taking  the  average  price  of  the  green  fruit  at  one 
cent  per  pound.     To-day  it  is  1^  and  2  cts.  per  pound. 

Q.   How  may  pests  be  combated  1 

It  is  a  fact  that  in  California  means  have  been  found 
to  successfully  destroy  all  pests  that  attack  trees  or 
vines.  In  the  brief  limits  of  a  pamphlet  it  is  impossible 
to  describe  at  length  the  different  methods  of  the  lead- 
ing horticultiirists.  Exact  information  can,  however,  be 
obtained.  In  no  other  part  of  the  world  have  orchards 
and  vineyards  suffered  so  little  as  here ;  no  danger  need 
be  apprehended  from  this  source  by  the  horticulturist 
who  is  willing  to  profit  by  the  experience  of  others. 

Q.  What  is  the  cost  of  lumber,  rough  and  surfaced, 
and  commodities  t 


Appendices  367 

Rough  lumber $13  00  per  thousand 

Surfaced  lumber 21  00  " 

Flour 4  00  "    barrel 

Butter 25  "    pound 

Pork 10  " 

Bacon 12  "       " 

Lard 09  " 

Clothing  and  furniture  are  as  cheap  now  as  in  the 
Eastern  and  mid-Western  States,  and  a  working  man  can 
feel  comfortable  in  canvas  overalls  every  day  of  the 
year. 

Q.  What  employment  can  be  found  by  orchardists  and 
vineyardists  1 

Fruit-picking  in  the  orchards  and  vineyards,  and  work 
in  the  canneries,  dryers,  packing  establishments,  and 
wineries  give  employment  to  thousands  of  men,  women, 
and  children.  In  the  winter  and  spring  there  is  work  to 
be  obtained  by  any  man  in  possession  of  a  stout  team. 
None  need  be  idle.  Labour  is  worth  from  $20  to  $40 
with  board.  A  good  mechanic  will  work  and  supply  his 
own  board  at  $3  to  $5  per  diem.  Cooks-  command  $25 
a  month  and  board.  Second  girls  $15  a  month.  Girls 
from  the  East  can  always  find  employment  at  these  figures. 
The  supply  of  female  help  is  far  below  the  demand. 

Q.  Can  money  be  made  in  the  poultry  business,  with 
berries,  melons,  etc.  1 

Yes;  eggs  and  poultry  always  command  a  ready  sale 
and  a  fair  price.  Turkeys,  geese,  ducks,  and  chickens 
do  well  throughout  the  year.  The  poultry  yard  of  a 
thrifty  orchardist  should  pay  easily  for  the  clothing  of 
the  family.  Broilers  average  from  $3  to  $5  per  dozen, 
eggs  from  15  cts.  to  30  cts.  per  dozen.  Berries,  melons, 
vegetables,  etc.,  can  easily  be  raised  and  sold  or  traded 
at  local  stores.  California  produces  an  enormous  crop  of 
berries,  and  every  farmer  ought  to  raise,  between  the  trees 


368  Appendices 

of  his  young  orchard  sufficient  vegetables  for  his  own  use, 
and  enough  besides  to  pay  his  butcher's  bill. 

Q.    Is  it  wise  to  purchase  land  with  a  small  capital  1 

The  writer  is  honestly  of  the  opinion  that  California 
is  one  of  the  few  places  in  the  world  where  a  man  may 
start  in  business  with  a  small  capital.  The  State  has 
been  settled  up  and  developed  by  persons  who  for  the 
most  part  brought  no  money.  While  it  is  desirable  to 
bring  capital  here,  many  men  have  been  and  are  to-day 
making  money  without  it. 

Q.  Is  the  present  a  good  time  to  purchase  —  and 
why  1 

Most  assuredly.  The  wise  trader  buys  on  the  bumps 
and  sells  on  the  slumps.  The  stringency  of  the  times 
a  drought,  —  the  first  in  twenty  years,  —  and  the  gen- 
eral stagnation  and  depression  following  the  disastrous 
boom  of  '86  and  '87,  have  combined  to  place  values  below 
par,  and  according  to  expert  authority  a  healthy  reaction 
is  now  in  order  and  almost  inevitable. 


ni 

VITICULTUEE 

GOOD  wine,  we  are  told,  needs  no  bush,  but  Cali- 
fornian  wine  is  sold  in  England  under  a  brand 
advertised  extensively  as  the  '^Big  Tree."  Without  in 
any  sense  depreciating  this  brand,  it  is  proper  to  say  that 
the  best  Californian  wine  is  not  sold  in  England  at  all. 
And  it  is  not  easy  to  obtain  it  in  California.  A  friend  of 
mine  has  in  his  cellars  a  certain  Rhine  wine  some  twenty 
years  old,  which  he  pronounces  justly  "  a  perfect  dream  ; " 
but  of  this,  I  understand,  there  is  hardly  any  left.  Of 
the  wines  on  the  market,  the  best  Burgundy  of  the  Swiss- 
Italian  colony,  the  sauternes  of  Livermore  name,  and 
the  clarets  made  from  the  Lafite  grapes  (the  Cabernet 
and  Cabernet  Franc)  may  be  highly  commended ;  while 
ports  and  sherries  and  other  sweet  wines  made  in  South- 
ern California  find  a  fair  market.  So  far  the  champagnes 
of  the  Pacific  Slope  have  lacked  the  quality  that  distin- 
guishes the  French  wine,  but  Mr.  Paul  Masson,  of  San  Jos^, 
is  selling  an  article  of  uncommon  merit ;  and  he  is  enthu- 
siastically of  the  opinion  that  champagne  of  the  finest 
flavour,  sparkle,  and  purity  will  in  time  be  produced  in 
his  cellars. 

Viticulture  in  California  has  steadily  prospered  in  spite 
of  disappointment,  disease,  and  litigation.  In  early  days 
a  rough  wine,  "  tinto,"  was  expressed  from  the  Mission 
grape  by  the  Padres,  and  vines  can  still  be  found  about 
the  old  adobe  Missions  more  than  a  hundred  years  old, 
which  still  bear  heavily.  Mr.  Nutting,  writing  on  this 
subject,  says ;  — 

24 


370  Appendices 

*'  The  oldest  regular  Mission  vineyard  known  tome  is  about 
ten  acres,  planted  in  1847  by  the  pioneer,  Peter  Lassen,  on 
what  is  now  the  Stanford  ranch  at  Vina,  and  it  is  more  vigor- 
ous and  prolific  than  some  of  the  young  vineyards  of  more 
popular  varieties." 

In  1880  more  than  80  per  cent  of  the  35,000  acres  of 
vineyard  in  the  State  were  of  this  quality-lacking  variety ; 
but  to-day,  out  of  150,000  acres  of  vineyards,  more  than 
60  per  cent  of  the  red  wine  is  made  from  the  Zinfandel 
grape.  However,  as  the  Secretary  of  the  Italian-Swiss 
colony  well  points  out,  the  Zinfandel  can  hardly  be 
considered  as  one  grade,  because  it  varies  according  to  the 
location  and  the  soil  in  which  it  is  grown. 

The  disappointment  of  which  I  have  spoken  overtook 
the  men  who,  recognising  the  possibility  of  making  wines 
of  a  high  commercial  standard,  staked  their  time  and 
money  and  special  knowledge  against  the  ignorance  and 
prejudice  of  their  fellow-citizens.  The  claret  made  from 
"  quality  "  grapes  came  into  competition  with  the  rough 
red  wines  expressed  from  grapes  that  yielded  five  or  more 
tons  to  the  acre.  The  public  generally  were  not  able  to 
discriminate  between  what  was  wine  and  what  was  not  ; 
in  the  East,  those  who  did  know  the  difference  bought 
up  the  best  wine  at  a  price  far  below  its  value,  and  sold 
it  under  French  labels,  at  an  exorbitant  profit,  to  the  rich 
Californians.  Many  of  the  wine-makers  were  ruined,  and 
the  State  as  a  wine-producing  State  was  condemned, 
because  only  the  worst  wines  were  sold  as  Californian. 
This  state  of  affairs  was  bad  enough ;  worse  followed. 
The  phylloxera  attacked  the  vineyards,  and  destroyed 
millions  of  vines.  Then,  when  a  brighter  day  seemed 
about  to  dawn,  when  resistant  varieties  were  coming  into 
bearing,  when  the  public  was  just  beginning  to  recognise 
the  merits  of  the  best  Californian  wine,  when,  in  short, 
it  seemed  to  the  most  conservative  that  the  wine  industry 


Appendices  371 

was  likely  to  become  a  stupendous  factor  in  the  pros- 
perity of  the  State,  a  fresh  disaster  set  its  iron  heel  upon 
the  vineyardists.  The  merchants,  with  that  short-sighted 
policy  which  has  always  distiugiiished  their  relations 
with  the  producer,  sought  to  monopolise  the  profits  of 
wine-making,  and  succeeded  for  a  season.  Then  co- 
operation on  the  part  of  the  wine-makers  brought  about 
an  armed  peace,  which  terminated  in  open  war.  Finally, 
the  claims  of  buyer  and  seller  have  been  adjusted,  and 
now  —  and  not  till  now  —  wine-making  would  seem  to 
have  passed  the  experimental  stage,  and  to  have  settled 
down  into  an  organised  industry  which,  properly  managed, 
offers  more  than  ordinary  inducements  to  the  prospective 
settler.  I  repeat  if  properly  managed.  Wine-making  is 
an  art,  —  an  art,  moreover,  which  would  seem  to  be  the 
peculiar  possession  of  the  Latin  race.  None  the  less,  I 
am  of  opinion  that  the  Englishman  or  American  borrow- 
ing the  experience  of  the  Frenchman  and  Italian,  and 
adding  to  it  the  results  of  his  own  observation  and  analy- 
sis, will  beat  the  Latin  in  the  end.  Foreign  wine-makers, 
I  have  noticed,  cling  like  limpets  to  old  world  methods, 
but  if  there  is  one  thing  certain  in  regard  to  viticulture, 
it  is  that  certain  varieties  of  grapes  vary  enormously 
according  to  soil,  climate,  and  elevation,  and  it  is  equally 
certain  that  the  foreign  wine-maker  in  California  does 
not  sufficiently  take  these  variations  into  account. 

Wine-making,  however,  requires  not  only  experience, 
but  a  large  working  capital.  The  prospective  viticulturist 
will  do  well,  therefore,  to  confine  his  attention  to  growing 
grapes  and  selling  them  to  the  wineries.  He  can  rely 
upon  a  price  varying  according  to  the  season  from  $9  to 
$12  per  ton.  If  he  raises  two  and  a  half  tons  to  the 
acre,  his  gross  profits  will  lie  between  $22.50  and  $30 
per  acre.  Deducting  50  per  cent  for  working  expenses, 
interest  on  capital  invested,  etc.,  the  net  profit  should 


3/2  Appendices 

average,  year  in  and  year  out,  not  less  than  $13  an 
acre,  —  a  fair  return  from  land  that  may  be  bought  from 
$25  to  |45  per  acre.  And  it  must  be  remembered  that 
a  vineyard  is  a  permanent  investment,  and  exacts  less 
care  and  attention  than  a  prune  orchard  or  an  orange 
grove.  It  is  absolutely  necessary  to  make  no  mistakes 
at  first,  either  in  the  choice  of  your  land,  the  buying  of 
your  cuttings,  and  the  cultivation  of  the  vineyard  during 
the  first  five  years. 

I  cannot  do  better  than  conclude  these  few  remarks  on 
wine  and  wine  grapes  with  a  clipping  from  an  article 
which  appeared  some  few  months  ago  in  the  San  Fran- 
cisco "  Chronicle  :  "  — 

"Californian  wine  can  compete  with  its  European  rivals, 
and,  as  to  quality  and  price,  to  the  great  advantage  of  this 
State.  The  only  drawback  is  the  roundabout  means  of  trans- 
portation. Californian  wines  have  to  be  sent  from  here  to 
New  York,  thence  to  England,  and  from  there  to  the  South 
American  countries,  because  there  is  no  direct  line  running 
either  from  this  port  or  from  the  East.  But  it  looks  as  if  this 
hiatus  would  soon  be  a  thing  of  the  past.  Several  projects 
are  maturing  which  promise  the  establishment  of  lines  of 
steamers  from  New  Orleans  and  New  York  to  those  South 
American  republics  which  can  be  counted  upon  to  consume 
a  large  proportion  of  the  wine  produced  in  California.  The 
completion  of  the  Nicaragua  canal  would  also  give  us  the 
required  outlet,  and  of  itself  would  go  far  toward  solving 
the  problem  that  has  so  long  troubled  those  in  the  wine 
trade  of  securing  markets  for  the  wines  grown  in  this  State. ^ 
Meanwhile  domestic  consumption  is  increasing,  slowly,  it  is 
true,  but  yet  it  is  growing,  until  now  20,000,000  gallons  of 
our  dry  wines  are  drank  in  the  United  States,  and  a  trade  is 
springing  up  with  England,  Belgium,  Switzerland,  and  Ger- 
many which    promises    to  attain   considerable    proportions. 

1  The  Panama  Canal  is  now  in  the  possession  of  New  York 
capitalists. 


Appendices  373 

Inquiries  as  to  the  handling  of  California  wines  are  being 
received  by  San  Francisco  dealers  that  show  that  if  the 
American  tariff  be  placed  in  operation  in  the  West  Indies  a 
large  trade  can  be  expected  to  be  built  up  in  Cuba  and  Porto 
Kico,  where  the  middle  and  upper  classes  are  accustomed  to 
drinking  Spanish  and  French  productions,  and  will  welcome 
the  pure  and  low-priced  vintages  of  California.  In  time,  and 
if  the  trade  be  pushed,  the  Philippines  will  take  off  our  hands 
millions  of  gallons  of  our  low-grade  wines,  and  it  has  been 
suggested  that  if  the  Government  of  the  United  States  would 
place  wine  on  its  ration  list  so  that  it  might  be  mixed  with 
the  unhealthful  water  of  the  tropics,  the  lives  of  many  of  the 
troops  whom  it  will  be  necessary  to  maintain  in  the  Philip- 
pines and  the  Antilles  would  be  saved,  and  at  the  same  time 
the  vinicultural  industry  of  California  would  be  greatly  bene- 
fited. Taking  all  these  possibilities  and  probabilities  into 
consideration,  our  annual  average  production  of  20,000,000 
gallons  of  dry  wines  should  be  as  a  drop  in  the  bucket,  and 
the  time  should  not  be  far  distant  when  every  hillside  in 
California  should  be  set  out  in  vines,  and  the  amount  of  wine 
produced  for  home  consumption  and  for  export  to  our  new 
territories  and  to  other  markets  which  stand  ready  to  receive 
them,  should  rival  that  of  the  famed  countries  of  Southern 
Europe." 

Raisins. 

California  produces  as  fine  a  raisin  as  that  of  Malaga, 
and  one  that  keeps  much  better  and  is  far  cleaner.  I 
have  not  lived  in  Fresno,  which  is  the  chief  raisin  dis- 
trict (it  has  about  35,000  acres  in  Muscat  gi'apes,  about 
three-fourths  of  California's  raisin  acreage),  but  I  know 
from  reliable  sources  that  raisin-growing  is  a  pleasant 
and  profitable  occupation,  and  that  the  industry  was 
never  more  prosperous  than  it  is  at  the  present  moment. 
The  crop  for  1899  was  66,000,000  pounds  (not  counting 
the  raisins  consumed  in  the  State),  an  increase  in  one 
decade  of  nearly  50,000,000  pounds  :  a  result  which  must 
challenge  the  serious  attention  of  the  would-be  vineyardist. 


374  Appendices 

A  raisin  vineyard  bears  well  in  four  years  from  plant- 
ing, and  the  fruit  is  dried  in  small  trays  by  the  sun  alone. 
Each  tray  makes  about  seven  pounds  of  raisins,  and  as 
there  is  no  dew  in  raisin-growing  districts,  the  grapes  dry 
by  night  as  well  as  by  day.  Experience  alone  tells  the 
vineyardist  when  the  raisin  is  sufficiently  dried,  but  the 
methods  are  simple  and  inexpensive.  A  seeding-machine 
has  been  lately  invented  which  extracts  all  seeds  and 
turns  out  a  raisin  fit  for  a  pudding.  The  inventor  has 
certainly  earned  the  undying  gratitude  of  the  busy  house- 
wife. Bare  land  can  be  bought  at  prices  ranging  from 
$50  to  $200  an  acre,  and  an  acre  in  bearing  ought  to 
average  year  in  and  year  out  one  ton  of  raisins.  I 
learn  with  pleasure  that  the  raisin-growers  of  Fresno, 
after  a  year's  experience,  have  renewed  their  organisa- 
tion for  two  years.  Co-operation  on  the  part  of  small 
farmers,  fruit-raisers,  and  vineyardists  is  essential  to  their 
prosperity. 

It  is  almost  superfluous  to  add  that  no  man  who  is 
intending  to  grow  raisins  should  fail  to  visit  Fresno, 
where  he  will  learn  more  in  a  week  than  he  could  glean 
from  fifty  books  on  the  subject.  Fresno  is  now  enjoying 
somewhat  of  a  boom,  owing  to  the  flourishing  condition 
of  the  Coalinga  Oil  fields. 


BEET  CULTUKE 

IN  Beet  Culture  California  retains  her  leadership  in 
factory  capacity  and  output  of  beet  sugar,  and  seems 
likely  to  do  so.  The  factories  in  California  have  a  daily 
capacity  of  8,500  tons  of  beets,  while  all  the  other  facto- 
ries in  the  Union  combined  average  8,300  tons.  The 
sugar  beet  is  raised  in  and  around  the  following  localities  : 
Alvarado,  Watsonville,  Chino,  Los  Alamitos,  Crockett, 
Spreckels,  Oxnard,  and  Santa  Maria. 

The  statement  of  the  cost  of  raising  beets  and  the  profits 
derived  therefrom  is  taken  from  the  books  of  a  beet  farm 
near  San  Juan,  and  is  quoted  by  Mr.  Claus  Spreckels, 
the  father  of  Beet  Culture  in  California. 

It  will  be  noted  that  in  the  case  quoted  above  the  land 
was  rented.  This  land  as  a  rule  belongs  to  the  owners 
of  the  factories,  and  so  far  the  contract  system  of  leasing 
land  to  farmers  has  worked  well.  Under  the  contract 
system  the  farmer  has  the  assurance  that  he  will  get  his 
money  promptly  at  an  agreed  price  upon  the  delivery  of 
his  product.  He  has  also  the  advantage  of  the  factory's 
expert  advice  upon  all  questions  relating  to  the  culture 
and  harvesting  of  the  beet.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
farmer  who  owns  his  own  land  makes  a  larger  profit,  and 
consequently  takes  greater  risks.  Time  —  as  General 
Chipman  has  well  pointed  out  —  will  settle  the  present 
difference  of  opinion  as  to  whether  the  farmer  should  be 
paid  on  the  basis  of  the  richness  of  the  beet,  or  by  the 
ton  regardless  of  its  purity  or  the  sugar  it  contains. 


376 


Appendices 


Total  cost. 


Cost 
per 
acre. 


Cost 
per 
ton. 


Expenses. 

Rent  of  238  acres  at  $7.00  per  acre    .     . 

First  ploughing $340.00 

Second  ploughing 396.65 

Cultivating  and  harrowing      .       500.00 

Sowing  —  labor 85.00  J 

Use  of  drill 28.80  J 

Seed,  2,830  pounds  at  ten  cents      .     .     . 

Thinning 

Cultivating  and  weed  cutting,  one  man 
and  two  horses,  thirty  days  at  $3.00   . 
Ploughing  out,  one  man  and  team,  ninety- 
five  days  at  $3.00 

Topping  and  loading  into  waggons,  1335.3 

days  at  $1.00 

Hauling  3  miles  to  switch,  at  fifty  cents 

per  ton 

Freight  on  railroad  to  factory  .... 

Cost  of  knives  and  hoes 

Interest 

Total  expenses 

Income. 

4,451.275  tons  of  beets,  at  $4.00     .     .     . 
Sale  of  beet  tops 

Total  income 

Net  profit 


$1,666.00 
1,236.65 

113.80 

283  00 
1,100.00 

90.00 

285.00 

1,335.30 

2,225.50 

2,225.50 

20.00 

300.00 


$7.00 
5.19 

.49 

1.19 
4.62 

.38 

1.19 

5.61 

9.35 

9.35 

.09 

1.26 


$10,880.75 


$45.72 


$.37 
.28 

.03 

.06 
.25 

.02 

.06 

.30 

..50 
.50 

.07 

$2.44 


$17,817.22 
200.00 


$74.86 
.84 


$4.00 
.04 


$18,017.22 


$75.70 


$7,136.4/ 


$29.98 


$4.04 
$1.60 


General  Chipman,  from  whose  report  to  the  San  Fran- 
cisco Board  of  Trade  I  take  my  facts,  goes  on  to  say  :  — 

"  California  is  destined  to  become  the  beet  sugar  plantation 
of  America  as  it  has  already  become  the  orchard  of  America, 
because  pre-eminence  must  be  accorded  and  must  surely  come 
to  that  State  where  the  conditions  necessary  to  success,  both 
in  the  growing  of  the  beet  and  its  manufacture  into  sugar,  are 
most  favourable.  .  .  .  Briefly  summarised,  these  favourable 
conditions  are :  earlier  maturity  of  the  beet,  earlier  opening 


Appendices  377 

of  the  campaign,  longer  season  for  harvesting,  longer  run  of 
factory,  greater  yield  per  acre,  greater  per  cent  of  saccharine, 
immunity  from  frost,  immunity  from  rain  at  critical  periods, 
and  ensilage  or  '  pitting '  of  the  beets  avoided." 

The  land  adapted  to  beet  culture  in  California  extends 
through  the  interior  valleys  from  Tehama  County  in  the 
north  to  San  Diego  in  the  south,  and  along  the  entire 
California  sea  coast,  and  in  the  coast  valleys  —  about 
750,000  acres. 

Constant  cropping  to  beets  is  injurious  to  land,  but  the 
rotation  of  crops  and  slight  fertilisation  adjust  the  losses 
of  potash  and  lime.  According  to  an  authority,  land 
sown  to  wheat  after  beets  will  produce  a  twofold  yield. 

The  price  of  the  best  beet  land  varies  from  $100  to 
$250  per  acre,  according  to  its  location. 


V 

lEEIGATION 

THE  drought  of  1898  taught  the  people  of  California 
the  lesson  of  irrigation.  Before  the  secularisation 
of  the  Missions  the  Padres  dug  many  ditches,  and  water 
was  carried  to  their  vineyards  and  orchards  from  a  long 
distance,  involving  enormous  labour  on  the  part  of  the 
Indians,  labour  in  those  days  being  compulsory  for  the 
most  part.  To-day,  power  will  be  found  cheaper  than 
the  systems  which  bring  water  to  land  in  obedience  to 
the  law  of  gravitation.  In  '98  we  bought  and  operated 
two  pumping  plants  which  worked  admirably;  and  it 
must  be  remembered  that  when  you  are  dependent  upon 
water  supplied  by  a  company  from  some  huge  reservoir 
there  is  always  the  grave  danger  of  the  water  failing  at 
critical  times.  In  the  Salinas  valley,  for  instance,  gigan- 
tic sums  were  expended  in  digging  canals,  but  when  these 
were  dug,  the  river  from  which  the  water  to  fill  these 
canals  was  to  be  taken,  dried  up,  and  the  enterprise  was 
temporarily  wrecked.  There  are  many  parts  of  Cali- 
fornia, notably  in  the  counties  of  Kern,  Tulare,  and 
Fresno,  where  the  water  obtained  from  the  canals  does 
not  fail,  but  speaking  generally  it  will  pay  the  small 
farmer  to  own  his  own  pumping  plant. 

I  cannot  do  better  than  quote  in  full  a  memorandum 
on  this  subject  written  by  Mr.  William  H.  Mills,  to 
whom  I  am  indebted  for  many  courtesies.  Mr.  Mills 
is  widely  known  as  a  brilliant  writer  upon  all  subjects 
connected  with  the  resources  and  development  of  Cali- 
fornia.    He  says :  — 


Appendices  379 

"Fruit  raising,  vine  growing,  and  small  farming  in  Cali- 
fornia will  depend  for  their  success  in  a  very  great  measure 
upon  the  artificial  application  of  water.  These  applications 
have  proven  profitable,  and  will  continue  to  be  so  under  favour- 
able conditions  without  irrigation,  but  they  are  far  more 
profitable  with  it.  Every  orchardist  and  vineyardist  ought 
also  to  be  a  gardener,  and,  in  order  to  diversify  the  products 
of  the  land,  irrigation  must  be  resorted  to.  Clover,  berries, 
gardens,  orchards,  and  vineyards  should  be  found  on  the 
same  holdings,  and  should  occupy  the  attention  of  the  cultiva- 
tor of  the  soil  in  their  various  seasons.  This  diversity  would 
in  a  measure  equalise  the  demand  for  labour  throughout  the 
year  and  greatly  improve  the  labour  conditions.  Irrigation 
will  enable  the  orchardist  and  vineyardist  to  supply  his  table 
with  poultry,  eggs,  milk,  butter,  vegetables,  and  fruits,  and 
thus  confer  upon  his  holdings  its  first  and  paramount  duty  of 
affording  him  a  complete  subsistence.  The  problem  of  living 
having  been  solved,  the  question  of  profit  would  become  more 
certain  and  happily  less  important. 

*'  The  ancient  methods  of  irrigation  will  be  superseded  by 
modern  and  more  economic  methods.  This  revolution  will  be 
referable  to  the  cheapening  of  mechanical  power  and  the 
increased  efficiency  of  pumping  machinery.  Under  the  old 
method  a  main  canal  carrying  water  at  an  elevation  to  lay  a 
certain  district  under  irrigation  was  necessary.  Its  construc- 
tion and  maintenance  were  costly,  while  the  application  of 
water  to  lateral  ditches  was  also  costly  and  unsatisfactory.  A 
gravity  supply  of  water  can  be  passed  over  a  surface  where 
the  decline  is  constant.  There  are  no  lands  sufficiently  level 
to  make  more  than  60  per  cent  of  their  surfaces  subject  to 
irrigation  from  any  point  of  elevation  in  their  vicinity. 

"  There  are  seasons  in  which  the  excess  of  precipitation 
makes  drainage  a  problem  difficult  of  solution.  In  such 
seasons,  a  costly  water  system  constructed  after  the  old  plan 
of  canals  with  lateral  farm  ditches  is  uneconomic  as  well  as 
useless.  The  money  invested  in  it  earns  nothing  in  such 
seasons,  and  as  a  rule  in  the  country  in  the  northerly  portions 
of  the  State  the  level  areas  have  more  to  fear  from  excessive 
precipitation  than  from  drought. 


380  Appendices 

"  If  it  be  suggested  in  answer  to  this  statement  that  the 
summer  months  are  dry  months  and  that  the  application  of 
water  during  the  heated  term  will  enable  the  cultivator  of  the 
soil  to  avail  himself  of  the  superior  productiveness  of  the 
summer  months,  the  answer  is  that  the  application  of  water 
by  canals  and  lateral  ditches  produces  in  all  countries  where 
the  practice  has  been  in  vogue  swamp  conditions  on  the 
lowest  lands,  unless  a  supplemental  costly  system  of  drainage 
is  resorted  to,  and  besides,  as  already  noticed,  it  cannot  be 
applied  to  the  entire  surface  of  the  land. 

"  Naphtha  or  gasoline  engines  have  furnished  a  very  cheap 
power  for  pumping,  while  improvements  in  pumps  have  made 
their  use  far  more  economic  than  the  application  of  water  by 
the  more  primitive  and  crude  method  of  ditches.  Of  course, 
the  water  must  be  brought  to  a  point  from  which  it  may  be 
pumped  economically,  and  this  can  be  done  in  three  ways  : 
first,  by  a  main  canal,  which  is  tapped  only  with  the  suction 
of  pumps.  Such  a  canal  would  cost  less  and  would  be  more 
permanent  in  its  construction,  because  it  would  not  be  con- 
structed with  reference  to  supplying  water  to  laterals.  Second, 
by  the  use  of  the  channels  of  living  streams.  For  the  most 
part  the  irrigable  lands  of  California  are  accessible  to  streams. 
Third,  by  the  sinking  of  wells.  Concerning  this  latter,  it 
should  be  noted  that  an  irrigated  country  soon  fills  with 
water,  and  wells  in  such  a  country  afford  an  ample  supply  for 
such  portions  of  land  holdings  as  need  irrigation.  The  eco- 
nomic use  of  the  pump  is  also  greatly  reinforced  by  the 
facility  with  which,  in  modern  times,  electrical  power  is 
transmitted  at  cheap  rates. 

"  Some  practical  experiments  in  pumping  were  made  in 
various  parts  of  the  State  during  the  drought  season  of  1898. 
It  is  stated  on  seemingly  reliable  authority  that  there  are  not 
far  from  two  thousand  irrigation  pumps  in  operation  in  the 
county  of  Santa  Clara  alone.  For  the  most  part  these  are 
using  wells,  and  their  use  has  proven  beneficial  and  economical. 

"  In  Capay  Valley,  with  irrigating  machinery,  pumping  from 
Cache  Creek  was  practised  and  highly  satisfactory  results 
obtained.  It  was  found  that  a  six-inch  pump,  using  a  fifteen 
horse-power  gasoline  engine,  was  capable  of  delivering  forty- 


Appendices  381 

two  thousand  gallons  an  hour  (700  gallons  per  minute)  at  the 
end  of  an  eight-inch  pipe  two  thousand  feet  in  length  at  an 
altitude  of  thirty  feet  above  the  surface  of  the  water.  This 
would  give  two  hundred  and  fifty  gallons  to  each  of  168  trees 
per  hour,  a  little  in  excess  of  the  equivalent  of  one  inch  of 
rainfall.  Ten  hours'  pumping,  allowing  250  gallons  to  each 
tree,  would  give  a  daily  efficiency  of  the  pumping  machinery 
equal  to  1,680  trees,  or  fully  sixteen  acres  a  day.  Excluding 
the  labour  of  handling  the  pipes,  which  was  usually  performed 
by  the  owner  of  the  orchard,  the  cost  was  f  5  per  day.  The 
cash  outlay,  then,  to'the  orchardist,  excluding  his  own  labour, 
was  $5  per  day  for  the  application  of  250  gallons  to  each  of 
1,680  trees  through  a  pipe  line  two  thousand  feet  in  length. 
At  a  greater  elevation  than  thirty  feet  the  efficiency  of  the 
machinery  was  reduced.  Careful  arithmetical  observation, 
however,  demonstrated  the  practicability  of  supplementing 
the  pumping  station  at  the  creek  with  pumps  stationed  at  the 
end  of  the  pipe  line  to  reach  still  higher  elevations,  and 
practically  demonstrated  the  superior  economy  and  advisa- 
bility of  pumping  as  a  substitute  for  ditches.  Every  portion 
of  an  orchard,  however  uneven  its  surface,  could  be  reached 
with  the  pipe  line,  and  from  a  single  pumping  station,  where 
the  highest  point  of  the  land  was  below  thirty-five  feet  eleva- 
tion, approximately  500  acres  of  alfalfa  could  be  irrigated. 
The  application  of  27,000  gallons  to  each  acre  could  be  made 
for  33J  cents  per  acre.  This  is  the  equivalent  of  one  inch  of 
rainfall,  or  the  equivalent  of  three  inches  of  rainfall  on  each 
acre  could  be  made  for  $1  per  acre  ;  or  the  application  of  the 
equivalent  of  one  inch  of  rain  at  three  different  times  in  the 
season  for  the  same  sum,  not  including  the  labour  of  moving  the 
machinery  or  the  necessary  movement  of  the  pipes  over  the  sur- 
face of  the  land.  The  experiment  brought  plainly  to  view  the 
fact  that  at  below  thirty-five  feet  elevation  above  the  surface 
of  the  water  the  entire  cost,  including  all  the  labour  employed, 
would  be  the  equivalent  of  one  inch  of  rain  for  forty  cents  an 
acre,  or  at  most  $1.25  for  the  application  of  this  one-inch 
equivalent  three  times  in  a  season. 

"  The  machinery  used  for  these  experiments  was  constructed 
on  a  truck,  movable  from  point  to  point,  and  the  result  ob- 


^82  Appendices 

tained  was  very  highly  satisfactory.  Over  an  accessible  sur- 
face the  water  was  evenly  distributed,  and  when  the  irrigation 
was  completed,  there  was  no  injurious  excess  in  low  places  or 
deficiencies  upon  the  higher  elevations  of  the  surface. 

"■  The  equipment  with  which  these  results  were  obtained 
embraced  the  following:  One  15  horse-power  gasoline  engine, 
one  6-inch  centrifugal  Krogh  pump,  one  truck  8-inch  tread 
of  tire,  three  thousand  feet  of  8-inch  wrought-iron  pipe  with 
fittings,  including  priming  pump,  jack  screws,  oil  tank,  and 
duck  cover;  and  cost  $2,000. 

"  The  capacity  of  the  equipment  was  equal  to  the  duty  of 
irrigating  throughout  the  season  500  acres  of  land,  and  upon 
that  area  would  supply  all  the  water  necessary  for  any  species 
of  cultivation  desired,  whether  of  alfalfa  or  orchard.  Its 
capacity  was  equal  to  1,200  acres  of  orchard  land,  and,  as 
already  noted,  the  original  investment  was  but  $2,000. 

**  To  recapitulate  these  conclusions,  the  experiment  in  Capay 
Valley  demonstrated  that  a  stationary  pump,  eliminating  the 
cost  of  trucks  designed  to  make  the  equipment  portable,  with 
2,500  feet  of  pipe,  cost  less  than  $1,600.  For  orchard  pur- 
poses the  eJ9&ciency  would  be  equal  to  the  duty  of  irrigating 
1,200  acres  of  orchard  or  500  acres  of  alfalfa  throughout  the 
entire  summer  season,  and  the  application  of  135,000  gallons 
of  water  to  each  acre  during  the  season  would  cost  $1.65  per 
acre  for  the  season,  not  including  the  labour  of  moving  the 
pipes;  or  if  the  labour  of  moving  the  pipes  is  included,  $1.75 
for  the  season. 

"Aside  from  the  advantages  already  noted,  the  superior 
efficiency  of  applying  the  water  to  the  entire  surface  of  the 
land  and  the  control  of  the  quantity  of  water  placed  upon  the 
land,  the  interest  on  the  original  cost  of  the  equipment  is  to  be 
considered.  It  is  doubtful  if,  by  a  canal  system,  lands  any- 
where in  the  State  can  be  laid  subject  to  an  irrigation  system 
for  less  than  an  original  cost  of  $10  per  acre,  and  this  original 
investment  would  be  permanent  and  the  interest  element 
connected  therewith  would  be  a  perpetual  charge  against  the 
original  equipment.  $10  an  acre  for  1,200  acres  of  orchard 
would  be  $12,000,  or  for  500  acres  of  alfalfa  $5,000,  as  against 
$1,500,  the  original  cost  of  a  coefficient  pumping  plant. 


Appendices  383 

"  The  application  of  electrical  power  would  reduce  the 
cost  from  the  figures  herein  given.  To  the  estimates  relating 
to  the  canal  system  must  be  added  the  cost  of  maintenance, 
the  waste  of  water  by  absorption  and  evaporation,  and  the  very 
unsatisfactory  method  of  applying  the  water  by  gravity. 

"  It  is  within  reasonable  probability  that  from  sixty  to 
seventy-five  per  cent  of  the  orchards  and  vineyards  of  the 
State  could  be  laid  subject  to  irrigation  by  pumping  at  a  cost 
not  exceeding  that  given  in  this  statement. 

"This  by  no  means  exhausts  the  subject.  All  over  the 
State  wells  of  sufficient  capacity  to  supply  a  three-inch  pump 
on  small  areas  of  ten  or  fifteen  acres,  using  a  five  horse-power 
engine,  are  to  be  found.  There  is  scarcely  a  land-holding 
where  an  equipment  of  this  kind  costing  less  than  $1,000 
cannot  be  made  available.  The  application  of  this  cheaper 
and  less  ambitious  equipment  would  greatly  diversify  the 
agricultural  pursuits  of  the  State  ;  would  enable  cultivators 
of  the  soil  to  beautify  their  holdings  and  furnish  the  full  round 
of  home  necessities." 


VI 
HINTS   TO   SPOKTSMEN 

IT  is  a  hard  saying,  but  the  sportsman  in  search  of 
game,  big  or  small,  must  be  prepared  to  encounter 
what  is  more  grievous  to  bear  than  toil  and  fatigue  — 
disappointment.  It  is  almost  impossible  to  get  reliable 
information  in  regard  to  game  and  fish,  and  the  stuff 
printed  in  railroad  circulars,  real  estate  pamphlets,  and 
most  of  the  magazines,  is  absolutely  untrue.  More,  a  man 
may  be  honestly  willing  and  able  to  give  information, 
and  the  person  to  whom  it  is  given  may  find  it  worthless 
owing  to  some  misapprehension  on  his  (the  sportsman's) 
part.  I  could  name  half  a  dozen  rivers  and  streams 
where  the  steel-head  trout  may  be  caught,  and  the  angler 
might  wet  his  line  in  vain  on  such  rivers,  because  neither 
I  nor  any  one  else  could  predict  exactly  when  these  fish 
would  be  running. 

Good  sea-fishing,  however,  particularly  at  Catalina 
Island,  is  a  certainty.  Between  the  first  of  May  and 
the  first  of  September  the  fisherman  may  confidently 
count  on  killing  tuna,  black-bass,  yellow  tail,  sea-bass, 
albicore,  and  bonito,  beside  many  others.  This  is  the 
only  place,  indeed,  where  tuna  can  be  caught.  You  travel 
direct  to  Los  Angeles  from  New  York,  and  Avalon  (Cata- 
lina's  small  town)  is  four  houcs  distant.  Here  are  several 
hotels,  and  within  a  stone's  throw  of  them  the  stands  and 
boats  of  the  boatmen.  Tuna  fishing  costs  from  $5  to  $7 
a  day.     For  the  other  fish,  a  rowing  boat  (instead  of  a 


Appendices  385 

launch)  is  quite  sufficient,  and  the  hire  of  one  with  a  man 
to  row  it  is  $3.  Two  men  can  fish  comfortably  from  the 
sternsheets  of  these  boats,  and  so  divide  the  cost ;  or  you 
can  hire  a  boat  by  the  week  without  a  man  for  a  small 
sum,  and  row  yourself.  The  boatman  supplies  everything, 
including  rods  and  reels ;  but  I  take  for  granted  that  the 
sportsman  will  bring  his  own  tackle.  You  will  need 
three  kinds  of  rod  :  a  tuna  rod,  a  yellowtail  rod,  and 
a  light  rod  for  bonito.  If  economy  must  be  practised, 
buy  no  tuna  tackle  (which  is  very  expensive),  for  one 
boatman  at  least,  James  Gardner,  has  excellent  rods  and 
reels.  I  know  of  only  one  man  who  makes  a  reliable 
tuna  reel,  Edwin  Vom  Hofe,  of  New  York,  and  his  reel  is 
not  yet  perfect.  Upon  this  reel  must  be  wound  three 
hundred  yards  of  cutty-hunk  line,  one  hundred  of  twenty- 
four  ply,  and  the  back  line  of  twenty-one.  Unless  the 
reel  can  hold  this  amount  of  wet  line  it  is  worthless  for 
tuna  fishing.  The  ordinary  tarpon  tackle  will  not  prove 
satisfactory  for  tuna.  Hooks  can  be  bought  on  the  island, 
and  all  the  tuna  boatmen  have  gaffs,  although  some  of 
them  (the  gaffs)  are  not  long  or  strong  enough.  You  can 
also  buy  on  the  island  piano  wire,  and  make  your  own 
tuna  and  yellowtail  spinning  tackle  at  a  price  consider- 
ably less  than  half  of  what  is  paid  for  the  ready-made 
article.  Cutty-hunk  lines  are  also  for  sale  in  Avalon. 
The  rod  should  not  be  too  stiff",  but  stiff  enough  to 
"  pump "  the  fish  when  he  sulks. 

For  black-bass  you  use  tuna  tackle.  For  yellowtail, 
sea-bass,  and  salmon  (not  found  at  Catalina),  I  have 
found  the  ordinary  yellowtail  rods  much  too  short  and 
too  stiff.  I  commend  a  lightish  spinning  rod  of  split 
bamboo,  and  the  line  (despite  the  protests  of  the  boat- 
men) should  be  fifteen  ply  cutty-hunk.  The  reel  should 
hold  two  hundred  yards  of  this  easily.  Beware  the 
dealer  who   shows  you  a  reel  which   he  says  will  hold 

25 

t 


386  Appendices 

so  much  line,  and  which  on  trial  holds  some  fifty  yards 
less  than  you  expected. 

Take  with  you  a  stout  box  —  wood  or  leather  —  hold- 
ing scissors,  pincers,  a  knife,  hooks  of  all  sizes,  wire,  gimp, 
extra  lines,  vaseline,  file,  thread,  and  the  other  odds  and 
ends,  lack  of  which  interferes  so  often  with  comfort  and 
sport.  And  do  not  omit  from  these  binding  silk,  wax, 
and  varnish,  for  a  split  bamboo  is  not  proof  against  salt 
water,  and  if  injured  must  be  mended  at  once. 

Your  ticket  to  Catalina,  allowing  for  a  few  days  en 
route,  and  your  expenses  between  London  and  Avalon, 
should  not  exceed  fifty  pounds.  The  rates  at  the  Avalon 
hotels  vary,  according  to  accommodation,  between  $2  and 
$6  a  day. 

Small-game  shooting  begins  about  the  first  of  October, 
and  continues  till  the  end  of  February.  I  have  already 
said  that  it  is  impossible  to  get  really  good  duck  or  quail 
shooting  unless  you  camp  out.  The  best  quail  grounds 
are  still  to  be  found  in  Southern  California,  but  only  a 
market-hunter  can  take  you  to  them.  He  will  provide 
everything,  but  it  will  be  well,  in  your  own  interest,  to 
add  a  few  luxuries.  You  will  take  a  tent,  but  I  advise 
you  to  sleep,  if  possible,  in  a  waggon.  My  brothers  and  I 
always  took  a  light  waggon  with  two  horses.  The  bed  of 
the  waggon  was  filled  with  hay  for  the  horses,  and  on  this 
hay  we  slept.  As  a  general  rule  it  is  not  necessary  to 
carry  much  hay,  as  it  can  be  bought  at  the  ranches  at  a 
reasonable  price ;  and  farmers,  we  found,  were  generally 
willing  to  supply  us  with  butter  and  milk  and  eggs.  Do 
not  sleep  in  their  hams.  You  will  be  disturbed  by  the 
horses  and  by  fleas,  and  there  is  always  the  danger  of 
fire. 

Remember,  too,  that  if  the  autumn  rains  have  not 
fallen,  the  country  over  which  you  are  shooting  is  covered 


Appendices  387 

with  grass  as  inflammable  as  tinder.  A  spark  burning  in 
an  empty  cartridge  may  destroy  thousands  of  acres  of 
feed.     You  cannot  be  too  careful. 

For  quail  shooting  I  prefer  to  use  very  small  shot, 
No.  8,  chilled ;  and  I  seldom  shoot  at  a  bird  that  is  more 
than  forty  yards  away.  A  wounded  quail  is  impossible 
to  find  without  an  excellent  dog,  and  the  best  of  dogs 
soon  lose  their  powers  of  scent  on  a  warm  autumn  day. 
After  a  little  practice  you  will  learn  to  retrieve  your  own 
birds.  If  they  are  getting  up  singly  one  after  the  other, 
which  often  happens,  and  you  have  several  down  in  the 
low  sage  brush,  it  is  wise  to  mark  the  places  where  you 
think  they  have  fallen  with  a  cap,  a  handkerchief,  or  a 
glove.  Then  you  circle  slowly  round  these  objects, 
gradually  enlarging  your  circle,  overlooking  no  tuft  of 
grass  or  bush,  and  by  this  method,  slow,  but  sure,  you 
will  lose  few  quail. 

I  have  not  given  a  list  of  stores,  because  your  market- 
hunter  must  travel  at  least  twice  a  week  to  some  point  on 
the  railroad  whence  he  can  ship  the  dead  birds,  and  on 
these  occasions  he  can  buy  what  is  needed  for  the  camp. 
None  the  less,  good  hams,  bacon,  canned  jams  and  vege- 
tables should  be  purchased  in  a  big  town,  as  the  village 
stores  only  keep  third-rate  articles. 

Duck  shooting  is  fairly  good  in  Southern  California,  but 
excellent  in  the  marshes  north  and  north-east  of  San 
Francisco.  Here  again  you  will  be  helpless  without  a 
professional  hunter,  for  you  must  have  decoys,  dogs, 
boats,  and  also  that  special  knowledge  of  the  habits  of 
the  birds  which  only  comes  after  long  experience.  As 
I  liave  pointed  out,  a  commission  merchant  in  either  Los 
Angeles,  San  Francisco,  or  Portland,  will  gladly  give  you 
the  names  of  half  a  dozen  Nimrods,  and  he  will  also  tell 
you  who  kills  the  most  game  —  an  important  thing  to 
know. 


388  Appendices 

Eor  all  these  expeditions  a  waterproof  hold-all  should 
take  your  kit,  not  the  common  hold-all,  but  the  large  bag, 
into  which,  if  necessary,  you  can  crawl  yourself  on  a 
damp  night.  This  will  contain  two  pairs  of  blankets,  a 
small  pillow,  a  change  of  clothes  and  underlinen,  extra 
boots,  towels,  etc.  A  small  bottle  of  Chamberlain's  Colic 
Cure  (in  case  you  drink  unknowingly  of  alkali  water), 
some  quinine  pills,  and  a  mild  aperient,  should  not  be 
omitted.     • 

The  cost  of  such  expeditions  will  be  trifling  compared 
to  the  expense  of  buying  or  hiring  a  complete  camp 
equipage,  and  paying  the  wages  of  a  guide.  Market- 
hunters  work  hard,  and  seldom  make  more  than  a  bare 
living,  so  you  will  find  them  only  too  willing  to  accept 
a  modest  sum  of  money,  better  "grub,"  and  the  birds 
you  shoot,  in  exchange  for  their  companionship  and  a 
share  of  their  sport.  I  have  often  found  it  difficult  to 
prevail  upon  such  men  to  accept  any  money  at  all. 

Big-game  expeditions  are  not  lightly  to  be  undertaken, 
and  it  is  absurd  to  lay  down  the  law  in  regard  to  them ; 
so  much  depends  upon  season,  locality,  and  the  men 
themselves.  Under  certain  circumstances  you  look  ask- 
ance at  a  tooth-brush,  for  every  extra  ounce  must  be  paid 
for  by  the  sweat  of  your  brow.  In  the  dense  forests  of 
the  Pacific  Slope  each  man  packs  on  his  back  his  own 
load,  and  the  lighter  the  load  the  lighter  the  heart  of 
him  who  carries  it.  Speaking  from  experience,  I  strongly 
advise  the  English  sportsman  to  keep  out  of  the  woods 
of  Washington,  Oregon,  and  British  Columbia,  unless  he 
can  reach  their  solitudes  by  means  of  a  canoe.  The 
chance  of  shooting  a  wapiti  in  the  forest  is  very  slim, 
but  the  chance  of  returning  from  such  expeditions  abso- 
lutely worn  out  in  body  and  soul  is  not  so  small.  I  shall 
speak,  therefore,  of  those  expeditions  which  can  be  made 


Appendices  389 

either  with  a  waggon  or  pack  animals  through  a  country 
tolerably  open.  Such  country  may  still  be  found  in 
Wyoming,  Idaho,  Montana,  Eastern  Oregon,  Eastern 
Washington,  and  in  the  uplands  of  British  Columbia;  but 
I  dare  not  undertake  to  recommend  any  particular  spot. 

Roughly  speaking,  it  is  still  possible  to  get  wapiti,  mule- 
deer,  antelope,  blacktail,  and  bears  of  sorts  in  the  States 
I  have  mentioned ;  but  bighorn,  wild  goat,  caribou,  moose, 
and  musk-ox  must  be  sought  for  in  British  Columbia 
and  Alaska.  Mr.  Baillie-Grohman  suggests  the  Olympic 
Mountains  of  Washington  as  a  likely  place  for  the  Pacific 
coast  wapiti,  which  differs  slightly  from  the  "  elk  "  of  the 
Rockies ;  and  into  these  same  mountains  I  hope  to  go 
within  a  few  months,  but  I  cannot  as  yfet  claim  a  per- 
sonal acquaintance  with  them.  My  brother  and  I  were 
in  the  State  of  Washington,  close  to  these  mountains, 
some  two  years  ago,  but  we  were  fishing.  We  learned 
that  parts  of  the  country  were  open,  and  that  game  was 
plentiful ;  and  we  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  several  fine 
trophies  which  had  come  the  year  before  out  of  the 
Olympics, 

No  matter  where  you  go,  however,  it  is  all-important 
to  find  a  good  guide,  and  from  choice  —  as  well  as  for 
economical  reasons  —  a  trapper  is  your  man  ;  but  be  sure 
that  he  is  a  trapper  and  not  an  impostor,  and  make  it 
clear  to  him  what  you  want.  In  one  of  my  expeditions 
the  bag  included  bison,  bear,  bighorn,  wapiti,  mule-deer, 
and  antelope ;  but  that  was  seventeen  years  ago.  When 
I  was  in  Vancouver  Island  in  '97  I  met  a  friend  return- 
ing \^ith  an  Indian  from  an  expedition.  He  had  shot 
nothing !  But  then  he  and  his  guide  had  plunged  into 
the  forest.  The  same  man  shooting  the  year  before  in 
the  uplands  of  the  Chilcotin  district  had  enjoyed  excel- 
lent sport  with  both  bighorn  and  caribou. 

The  less  you  take  from  England  in  the  way  of  iinpedi- 


390  Appendices 

menta  the  better.  We  found  a  camp  bucket  (sold,  I 
believe,  by  Silver)  very  useful,  because  it  contains  in  a 
surprisingly  small  space  nearly  all  you  want  in  the  hard- 
ware line ;  and  I  strongly  recommend  an  air  mattress  and 
small  indiarubber  bath.  I  have  used  for  many  years 
two  rifles,  an  English  Express,  450  cal.,  and  a  Win- 
chester repeater.  The  Express  cost  fifty  guineas,  the 
Winchester  a  few  dollars,  and  I  prefer  the  latter.  The 
'95  pattern  Winchester,  30  cal.,  shooting  the  U.  S. 
service  bullet,  is  a  wonderful  weapon  for  the  price,  and 
extraordinarily  effective ;  but  I  cannot  testify  to  its  effect 
on  big  bears,  although  I  am  told  that  the  trappers  pre- 
fer it  to  a  larger  bore.  Winchester  cartridges  can  be 
bought  everywhere. 

Clothing  and  boots  are  better  made  and  far  cheaper  in 
England;  but  blankets,  tents,  cooking  utensils,  and  so 
forth,  can  be  bought  as  cheaply  in  any  Western  town, 
and  will  fetch  second-hand  a  certain  sum.  It  is  most 
important  to  take  the  best  field-glass  that  money  can 
buy. 

Every  sportsman  has  his  own  ideas  about  the  com- 
missariat department.  Personally,  I  contend  that  the 
more  you  can  conveniently  take  in  the  canned  goods 
line  the  better.  Straight  meat  agrees  with  very  few. 
Canned  corn,  canned  tomatoes,  canned  beans  and  bacon, 
dried  fruits  and  vegetables,  and  plenty  of  cheese,  make 
camp  life  healthier  and  cheerier.  At  any  rate,  a  few 
cases  of  these  will  soften  the  first  rigours  of  the  cam- 
paign; and  when  they  are  gone,  you  will  be  hardened 
and  able  to  forego  such  luxuries.  In  any  case,  don't 
stint  the  sugar.  Saccharine  matter  in  some  form  would 
seem  to  be  an  imperious  necessity  to  a  man  living  the 
primal  life.  Chocolate,  too,  is  a  wonderful  food,  and  one 
too  often  ignored  by  the  sportsman. 

I   submit   a   list,    beginning,    as    will    be   seen,   with 


Appendices 


391 


the  necessities  and  ending  with  the  luxuries.  The  quan- 
tity must  be  regulated  by  the  number  in  the  party  and 
the  time  you  propose  to  be  absent.  Your  guide  can 
adjust  such  matters. 


Matches. 

Flour. 

Salt  and  pepper. 

Baking  powder. 

Sugar. 

Chocolate  (a  large  quantity). 

Whisky. 

Coffee  and  tea. 

Bacon. 

Dried  onions. 


Beans. 

Dried  potatoes. 
Dried  apples. 
Dried  apricots. 
Dried  prunes. 


Lard. 

Dried  fish  (smoked  salmon,  etc.). 

Crackers. 

Raisins  (cheap  and  good  food). 

Keg  of  Syrup. 

Oatmeal. 

Canned  vegetables. 

Canned  fruits. 

Jams  and  marmalades. 

Hams. 

Tinned    turkey,    chicken, 

etc. 
Tinned  milk  and  cream. 
Tinned  soups. 
Keg  of  butter. 
Pickles. 


I  omit  tobacco,  because  those  who  smoke  will  never 
leave  the  blessed  weed  behind.  Whisky  must  be  kept 
under  lock  and  key  if  Indians  be  of  the  party.  To  most 
trappers  strong  drink  is  irresistible,  and  on  that  account 
many  sportsmen  take  only  sufficient  for  medicinal  pur- 
poses. If  you  camp  out  in  the  winter,  bacon  and  lard 
are  necessities,  and  much  more  warming  than  alcohol. 

I  have  spoken  already  of  the  sleeping  bag,  but  I  would 
urge  the  tyro  once  more  to  take  plenty  of  warm  bedding 
if  he  intends  to  brave  the  snows  and  frosts  of  the  Far 
North.  At  a  sharp  pinch,  you  can  sleep  in  gum  boots 
and  mackintosh.  This,  I  need  hardly  say,  is  a  last 
resource  against  the  most  piercing  cold. 

You  can  buy  at  the  Army  and  Navy  Stores  a  small 
leather  medicine  case,  which  contains  a  few  drugs  in 
portable  form. 

Englishmen  are  outrageously  robbed  when  they  begin 
to  buy  horses,  mules,  waggons,  saddles,  etc.  Find  out 
the  market  price  of  what  you  want :   information  cheer- 


39^  Appendices 

fully  given  by  any  respectable  citizen  not  directly  or 
indirectly  concerned  with  the  sale.  At  such  times  good 
letters  of  introduction  are  invaluable.  The  men  at  the 
head  of  big  enterprises,  the  railroad  people,  the  bankers, 
the  contractors,  will  take  particular  pains  to  see  that  the 
stranger  within  their  gates  is  not  swindled,  provided 
always  that  you  appeal  to  their  sense  of  hospitality.  It 
is  possible  to  buy  an  "  outfit/*  use  it  for  six  months,  and 
sell  it  for  nearly  as  much  as  you  gave ;  but  such  a  piece  of 
luck  falls  to  few. 

In  conclusion,  I  emphasise  once  more  the  expediency  of 
borrowing  experience.  In  Victoria,  in  Tacoma,  in  Seattle, 
in  Portland,  and  in  San  Francisco,  men  may  be  found 
whose  advice  will  save  you  not  only  money,  but  time  and 
trouble.  Most  Englishmen  are  so  desperately  anxious  to 
start  into  the  wilderness  that  they  grudge  every  minute 
spent  in  making  inquiries.  Such  greenhorns  nearly 
always  return  empty-handed,  because  they  go  empty- 
headed.  Long  before  we  start  on  even  small  expeditions, 
my  brothers  and  I  begin  to  make  careful  notes.  For 
instance,  it  is  folly  to  take  horses  into  a  country  where 
the  feed  is  short ;  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  know 
something  of  the  topography  of  the  district  you  wish  to 
hunt  in  :  its  rivers  and  streams,  its  mountains,  woods,  and 
trails  (if  any).  You  are  sure  to  pass  through  many  big 
ranches,  and  a  letter  to  the  owners  will  insure  you  a 
welcome  at  least.  If  you  can  do  no  better,  a  card  from 
one  of  the  merchants  may  prove  an  open  sesame  to  price- 
less stores  of  information. 

It  is  perhaps  superfluous  to  remind  the  sportsman  that 
around  the  camp-fire  all  men  are  equal.  And  remember 
that,  be  they  many  or  few,  your  hired  companions  will 
take  their  tone  from  the  "  boss."  If  you  whine,  so  will 
they  ;  if  you  curse,  so  will  they  ;  if  you  loaf,  so  will  they. 
Insist  from  the  first  upon  order  and  cleanliness.     Each 


Appendices  393 

man  should  have  certain  definite  duties,  duties  never 
to  be  shirked ;  and  it  is  amazing  how  quickly  these 
duties  are  performed  after  a  little  practice. 

In  regard  to  the  preservation  of  your  heads,  a  hint  or 
two  may  not  come  amiss.  In  the  dry  uplands,  scrape 
the  skins  free  of  flesh  and  fat,  and  dry  them  in  the  sun. 
The  skulls  can  be  sawn  in  two.  See  to  it  that  the  skin 
around  the  necks  of  the  deer  and  wapiti  is  preserved ;  and 
be  sure  that  the  slit  is  at  the  hack  of  the  neck,  so  that  the 
trophies  when  mounted  will  show  no  ugly  seam.  The 
appearance  of  many  a  fine  head  has  been  spoiled,  because 
it  was  cut  off  too  near  the  skull,  and  the  skin  slit  below 
the  neck.  In  the  lowlands,  where  it  may  be  hot  and 
damp,  it  is  necessary  to  use  either  pepper  and  salt  or 
some  preserving  mixture. 


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